


The Road to Prophecy

by ElseworldKara, littleraider99



Series: Goddesses of Old, Born Anew [2]
Category: The 100 (TV), The 100 Series - Kass Morgan
Genre: All the torture, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Mythology, F/F, Grounder Culture, Heda Lexa, Masturbation, Medical Experimentation, Medical Torture, Minor Character Death, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Psychological Torture, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Torture, Voyeurism, Wanheda Clarke Griffin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-08
Updated: 2019-05-30
Packaged: 2019-10-24 15:58:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 47,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17707286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElseworldKara/pseuds/ElseworldKara, https://archiveofourown.org/users/littleraider99/pseuds/littleraider99
Summary: Part 2 of the series. This part explores what Clarke experienced to truly become Wanheda. From the control room to the aftermath of the mountain, this will detail the making of a badass.Some of you have suggestions or comments wanting responses that are either very large or would be spoiler-y. For that reason I'm putting in my (EK) Twitter and email and ER's Twitter. Feel free to hit us up.





	1. Mountain of Bones

**Author's Note:**

> EK - Welcome back readers! As promised, we're now delving into the two years between the mountain and the events of part 1. Being the shit author I am, I've decided to retcon my own work, but just a little.
> 
> LR and I have decided that Clarke didn't let Finn hump her. Raven could've assumed she did and been pissed at her for it, but it never happened. I'll go back and re-write the relevant part of Returning to Hell to reflect that change.
> 
> With that out of the way, we will try to update this fairly often. As some of you might remember, there was a few days gap during the first story that I had to take for health reasons. 
> 
> I hope you all enjoy the story. LR and I are excited to bring you this part and then, hopefully immediately after, part 3. We have lots of plans for Heda and Wanheda, and the challenges they'll face.
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> ElseworldKara  
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/FaoraEl)  
> [Email](mailto:ladyendymion100@gmail.com)  
>   
> LittleRaider  
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/LittleRaider1)  
> 

‘How in the hell did I get here?’ Clarke thought, standing in the room filled with monitors, a smug Dante Wallace in front of her, gun in her hand.

It had been a journey, Clarke reflected. One that had its ups and downs, with many events shaping the path that she had taken since landing on Earth. Wells’ accidental death falling off a cliff in the fog. Finn trying trying to have sex with everything that moved until Raven came down. Clarke had dodged that bullet, but Octavia and several of the other girls weren’t that lucky.

Convincing Charlotte one tear-filled night that slaying your monsters was an idiot’s poor choice of words, not something literal she should do. Befriending Raven and helping her to see how she was better off without him. Helping Murphy see that, despite his past and the attitude he tried to project, he was really a good guy. Certainly much better than Bellamy, who she was getting tired of giving second chances. Even now, after being sent in with Murphy to disable the fog, Bellamy was who the fuck knows where, having stayed with some girl named Echo instead of doing a God damned thing with the fog or coming up here helping.

He’d tried to show he should lead, being the only one with a gun among them. He’s wasted most of the ammo shooting at a panther. After she’d put a bullet between it’s eyes, she’d kept the gun and he’d fallen in line for about five seconds. After they’d found the rifles, he again tried to take leadership, until she’d shown him what a piss-poor shot he was, then she’d had to save his life from Dax. As Bellamy had begged for his life, Clarke saw what he was made of. As Dax did the same, she realized it was a common trait with a lot of them. When she’d put a bullet between Dax’s eyes, rather than have a traitor come back to haunt them, Bellamy had finally stopped trying to seize control. Sometimes he was okay, but his judgement was questionable to say the least, as were his motivations for wanting to lead.

With Murphy pulling his head out of his ass, he’d quickly risen to be one of her closest allies, right behind Raven of course. He was still a dick, but he knew when to shut up and listen, and when he could get away with acting like a dick. She swore he just did it to keep people at a distance, but he didn’t do it with her anymore. It seemed that respect and decency went a long way with him. With Raven as her right hand, Murphy made a good left one. Miller seemed to go wherever the power was, as did Harper and Bree. Jasper was a worry, especially with his willingness to go wherever his heart, or hard-on led him. Monty was solid and between him and Raven, he had all the tech help she could possibly need, not to mention that Monty seemed to keep Jasper focused. Now that she thought about it, most of the 100 seemed to not care who was in charge as long as they weren’t a total asshole. 

Speaking of leading, her thoughts quickly took her to Lexa. Lexa, with her green penetrating eyes staring into Clarke’s soul. Her tiny quirk of her lips when something amused her. Her stunned look of shock when Clarke would succeed at the impossible, like with the pauna, or bringing Lincoln back to his senses. That entire episode was odd in reflection. Lexa seemed practically devastated at seeing Lincoln as a reaper. You wouldn’t know it to look at her, but it was there in her eyes, glassy with unshed tears, the bob of her throat as she tried to swallow her emotion. She knew Indra could see it as they stood in the upper level of the dropship, Indra’s concern clear. When Clarke had performed CPR and shocked his heart, she thought she’d be decapitated by them both for desecrating his body. The look of unguarded hope on Lexa’s face had made Clarke unwilling, hell, unable to stop until she succeeded. When it took his first breath, speaking a moment later, Lexa had had to turn away a moment, her shoulders moving as if she was trying to suppress a sob from escaping. The warmth in Lexa’s voice as she’d said that they had a deal was something she’d cherish in hard times. The kiss was Earth-shattering. Even as she’d pulled away though, she knew. She was drawn to Lexa from the moment their eyes met. She felt a pull that she’d never felt, couldn’t explain. It was more than connection, she could feel it in her bones, her soul. When they’d kissed, she was sure that this was the woman she’d spend the rest of her life with, but something wasn’t right, not yet. She’d felt that too, like for some reason they weren’t quite ready. Trusting her gut, she’d told Lexa that they couldn’t be together, not yet.

Given what had happened outside the mountain, she’s glad she’d had them wait, though with the pain fresh in her heart, she couldn’t imagine a time that would ever be right for them again. Lexa had left them, left **her**. Clarke had stood there, watching as the call was given for the grounders to retreat. She had looked at Lexa with what Clarke was sure was all the heartbreak in the world. It had felt like half her soul was being ripped away as Lexa took that first step away from her. Clarke could see the regret, but regret didn’t mean a damned thing when the girl you thought was it for you was leaving you to die on the side of a mountain while your people were being tortured to death inside. A part of Clarke knew that Lexa was making a choice she thought was right, but fuck that shit. Clarke was angry, and hurt, and Lexa should’ve fucking seen that Clarke and her people were Lexa’s people too God dammit! They’d talked about the politics of the coalition, and Clarke knew that an unwritten, unratified agreement between Lexa and herself wouldn’t be accepted as reason enough to risk any of the grounders by rejecting the offer, but she deserved to be angry and hurt and _**FUCK YOU FOR ABANDONING ME!**_

She could feel it, the alien tingle in her brain. Thinking back, when she’d cut Atom’s throat, and again when she’d shot Dax, a strange feeling had started in the base of her skull. It’d gone away each time, but the moment she’d given the order to light the engines, to incinerate the three hundred grounders, the roar was accompanied by the same feeling, a hundred times more intense. Killing Finn to spare Raven the pain of his suffering had brought it back again. And now it was building to a horrible crescendo. Looking to the left, she could see Tsing and her mother talking furiously. If she knew her mother, and she thought she did less and less every day, the two so-called doctors were busy, with Abby trying to make a deal and Lorelei trying to get any useful information she could. It’s like they were both competing for the gold in the Doctor Mengele competition. Clarke wouldn’t be surprised if Abby was willing to trade every person, including Clarke herself, for Abby’s freedom.

Abby, Miller, Kane, Raven, Wick… it went on and on. Even… swallowing the lump in her throat, she forced herself to see, even Charlotte..

“Dante, end this. It’s not too late for your people to walk away from this.”

“None of us have a choice Clarke.” She’d give the old man credit, he looked prepared to die for his people.

Cage, on the other hand, looked ready to fall apart on the monitors. Pointing the gun at Dante, Murphy moved off, probably more worried about getting hit with gore than about her aim.

Pressing the button on the radio, she knew that this was it, the first domino to fall in what would be the final struggle between their people.

“You could’ve made a deal Cage, there are more than enough of my people. We could’ve donated the marrow, but that wasn’t enough. You wanted a guarantee, and were willing to pay the price, as long as that price was in our blood, our deaths. The price just went up.”

**-BANG-**

After the shock and fear left Dante’s face, he almost looked relieved that his part in this would be over. The twinge in her head started building again. Cage looked at first horrified, then grief-stricken. His features settled on rage. Clarke knew that things had escalated, and that whatever came next, she wouldn’t like it. As Emerson started to move, she had to act.

“Monty, can you do it? Can you rig it to irradiate level five? And turn off Emerson’s key card.” As she finished, she moved to Dante’s body, finding his key card in his shirt pocket. Dante must’ve given it back to him when he’d solved the grounder problem. “Turn them all off except Dante’s.”

“I can do it, I just need a minute to get the systems set to irradiate that level. The rest of the key cards are off, but I can’t deactivate Cage’s or Dante’s. They’re the two highest clearances; Dante’s is level 8, Cage’s level 7. That’s weird, it looks like the top clearance is level 10. I wonder why..”

“Focus Monty.” Murphy moved to stand by the computer genius, not to pressure him but to reassure him with his presence and the gun he held, ready to protect him while he completed the vital tasks.

Clarke watched as Cage stormed towards the door to the extraction room. She caught a glimpse of Maya, Jasper, and Bellamy off to the side on level five. In the extraction room, they were just strapping in Raven on the table, with Wick thrashing in her chains against the wall. Miller was trying to shield Charlotte from view along with Major Byrne, the little girl having been adopted by everyone at the camp, but none so much as with Clarke.

The feeling of dread washed through Clarke, knowing what was coming. Someone must’ve talked to Cage, because as soon as he entered the room, he started scanning the faces. Barking out orders to the few guards left in the room, Miller and Byrne were shocked into near unconsciousness. One of the guards moved towards Charlotte, and Clarke knew she was out of time.

“Monty, is it ready?! We’re out of time!”

“Almost, almost. I have to bypass like every safety system they have.”

Staring transfixed at the monitor, Clarke heard Octavia and Murphy move to either side of her. As Charlotte was handed off to Cage, she could barely hear Tsing saying they could get three or four doses out of her despite her size.

As Clarke watched helplessly, Cage took Charlotte by the shoulder and spun her to face the camera.

Parting her lips, a whispered “no” came from Clarke. As Cage’s gun came up, she frantically hit the button on the radio. “Charlotte sweetie, Clarke loves you honey…” the rest was cut off in an anguished scream as Cage’s bullet tore through Charlotte’s head, her eyes still looking with love at the camera, knowing that her Clarke was on the other side.

As her body hit the floor, the reaction in the extraction room was a frenzy of screams and thrashing against restraints. Clarke lowered her head, tears sliding down her cheeks as she felt that place in her head crack, like spiderwebs moving through glass.

As Murphy and Octavia both moved to touch Clarke’s shoulders, her head snapped up and locked onto Cage’s triumphant features. Raising the radio to her face, her hand didn’t tremble. The plastic of the radio was groaning in her grip as she keyed the mic.

“If you ever wonder, while sitting in Hell, this was the moment that sealed your fate. Shooting an old man who was guilty of murder and genocide was one thing. Ripping the bone marrow out of my people and bleeding grounders for decades was enough, but executing an innocent thirteen year old out of spite, that’s the mistake that will cost all of your people their lives.”

Looking towards Monty, who flinched in response, the sadness on his own face making way for resignation. “It’s done. Pull this lever and the fans reverse, pulling the irradiated air into the system and pushing it all through to level five.”

She moved to the lever, and just as Octavia spoke up to try to stop her, she looked back at the monitor. Cage was now standing next to Raven, the gun pointed at her temple. Clarke didn’t hesitate, pulling the lever with enough force to almost rip the thing free of it’s mounting.

Hitting the button for the PA system for level five, she spoke “Jasper, Bellamy, get Maya back on her own oxygen, now.”

Both of them looked around bewildered rather than moving to do as she said. Maya’s eyes widened in panic, and she was talking quickly to Jasper while pulling her suit back on. Jasper finally seemed to get with the program, moving off to look for more oxygen canisters. He was almost immediately intercepted by the few guards left in the dining hall. Bellamy stood there, looking reluctant for a moment, before moving to help Jasper. It was too late by then.

Cage, figuring out what Clarke had done, abandoned the idea of putting a bullet through Raven’s skull as he darted towards the syringes of marrow. Not bothering to listen to Tsing as she tried to tell him that there wasn’t enough time for it to take effect, he jabbed two into his arm and frantically mashed the plungers.

Emerson, having failed to make it off level five, returned to the extraction chamber in time to start watching people die. As he’d said to Cage earlier, he was the last of the inoculated left alive after ambushing the party from the Ark. What everyone witnessed next was nothing short of horrifying.

Burns started appearing on all of the mountain people. Screams of pain were heard next, as the burns intensified and appeared like severe sunburn over their entire bodies.

It was the screams of the children that were the worst, high pitch and innocent, conveying the agony they were in. Clarke absorbed it all, watched it all. As Octavia and Monty and Murphy looked away, with Octavia and Monty actually covering their ears, Clarke moved to within a few feet of the monitors and speakers. It had to be done, she had done it, and she wasn’t going to hide from the consequences.

She felt that tingle and a jolt move through her body as the people finally surrendered to death. Ten, twenty, fifty, they just kept dying. A hundred now, and the buzz was making her twitch. If this was some kind of weird reaction to killing people, it made sense that it was worse when death came from her own hand instead of just her orders. Two hundred, the only ones left were the people in their twenties and thirties, the young and old having perished first. Medically speaking, she knew it was that age group that could tolerate radiation the longest, their immune systems the strongest. She saw Jasper wailing, clutching Maya to him after giving her the oxygen, her suit not sealed in time. As she died, he looked to the heavens screaming. Clarke knew he had a right to be upset, but having known her for six days and her politely rebuffing him each time he’d tried to get closer, Clarke wondered if this wasn’t more about unrequited feelings and the loss of what he saw as an opportunity for something rather than being really about her death.

Clarke knows, in her bones, that they’re all dead, all but Emerson. Three hundred and forty-seven people, men women and children. She watches as Emerson grabs Cage’s card and runs, knowing that a parasite like him would flee to save his own ass rather than confront anyone. 

“Monty, Emerson is running with Cage’s card. Make sure he’s leaving, I don’t want any surprises.” She passes Monty a radio, making sure it’s on the right channel.

“The rest of us are going to free our people. Once you’re sure Emerson has left, I want you to seal off all of the entrances except the back door. Put this place on lockdown and once that’s done, see if there’s some kind of standby mode to conserve power. All this place has left is the generator.”

Turning to Murphy and Octavia, she signals them to leave as she grabs her own radio and readies her gun, just in case. 

The trip to level five happens in silence. With her in the front and Octavia and Murphy behind her, she has a chance to prepare herself for the carnage they’re about to walk through. Just before the doors open to level five, she feels Murphy lean into her shoulder slightly, offering his support. After killing an entire people, she could use it.

They exited the elevator and made their way to the dining hall. Stepping inside, the smell of death hits them. Octavia gags, but Murphy and especially Clarke have experienced this before. Looking to the side, she can see Bellamy trying to get Jasper to let go of Maya’s burnt corpse. 

“I know you’re upset Jasper, but we need to help our people that are still alive. Let’s go.” Clarke said. She wasn’t trying to be harsh, but as the Commander had said, the living are hungry. Grimacing, she decided that she’d avoid pearls of wisdom from that source for a while.

Opening the extraction chamber door, she entered to see her people still chained up. Moving quickly to the guards, she and Murphy grabbed keys, her throwing them to Bellamy and motioning for them to start releasing people. Clarke moved to Raven, examining the area of her hip where they’d started the process. Grabbing some gauze and tape, she quickly bandaged the wound before moving to the buckles. Raven at this point was sobbing, whether from her near death from Cage’s gun, or from the death that the drill would’ve brought, she’d never know. Releasing the last buckle, Clarke gathered Raven into her arms, Raven’s face slotting between her shoulder and neck as she shuddered against Clarke and gripped her tightly.

“It’s okay Ray, I’ve got you. You’re safe now, they all dead.” Clarke whispered variations of it over and over into Raven’s ear until she’d calmed enough to let go. Looking up, she saw that they’d released Abby, the look of disgust clear on her face, though if it was from the choices of the mountain people or what her daughter had just done, Clarke couldn’t say. Kane was next, taking the keys from Bellamy and releasing Byrne and the rest.

“Clarke, it’s Monty. Emerson’s gone. I’m putting the mountain into standby, the other doors are sealed. I’m switching the control center back off like we found it and I’ll be down there in about three minutes.” Monty’s voice carried through the tiny radio speaker.

Nodding at the camera, Clarke keyed her radio, “That’s good Monty, thanks.”

Clarke moved over to the small body lying on the floor. Rolling her gently, Clarke reached up and closed Charlotte’s eyes. Kane, being a hundred, a thousand times better of a man than he ever was on the Ark, brought her a sheet and helped Clarke wrap Charlotte in it. Declining his further help, she lifted Charlotte’s body in her arms and turned to face the group.

“Kane, Byrne, get the rest of our people from the next room, we’re leaving. Murphy, Wick, please help Raven. No, no protests, your hip is fucked and you’ll need help getting back to Camp Jaha.”

As Monty joined them, he moved over to Jasper, who seemed to take that as his queue to start bawling again. Abby looked like she was inspecting everything, no doubt imagining what she could take and bring back to camp.

“Mom, if there are any medical supplies that can help Raven, grab them, we won’t be back.”

Before she could object, Kane took her upper arm and pulled her towards the medical supplies. Grabbing a bag, he had her pick things out before stuffing them inside. Nodding that they were finished, he got the rest of them organized to move.

She waited until the rest of the Arkers had gathered before speaking. “It’s a six hour walk to Camp Jaha. There’s a stream about halfway, but if any of you need water or something before we go, do it now. If you’re going into the dining hall, it’s not a pretty sight.”

With that, Clarke moved out through the door, carrying her precious burden in her arms. She waited at the exit door for her people to join her. Once they finally did, she led them to the stairs that would take them up and out.

As they approached the back entrance, an armored door much like the front, Clarke stood silently as each of them walked by, with Murphy and Monty staying with her. After they’d all exited, she handed Dante’s card to Monty and he went to the access panel, hitting several buttons before sliding the card through. After doing so, the lights in the hallway went out, emergency lighting coming on. As they left through the door, it slowly inched closed before the final deep thump of it closing solidly. As Monty handed the card back to Clarke, the sound of the bolts sliding home in the door echoed around them.

As they began their trek, her eyes roamed the group. They were more or less in decent shape, aside from Raven. Abby had been convinced, reluctantly, to give Raven a shot of pain meds. The wounded girl was now being carried by Wick, appearing to be passed out. Abby, meanwhile, was babbling to anyone that would listen about how the anti-radiation treatments she’d developed on the Ark must’ve made the ground safe for them. Clarke supposed that had something to do with her, judging by the way Abby’s eyes kept flickering back to her, but she’d be damned if she knew how.

After ninety minutes of walking, she called the group to a stop to rest their legs for a moment. Wick had refused Murphy’s offer to take Raven off his hands, and he’d instead moved back to Clarke. Her arms were ready to fall off, so she accepted his offer to let him carry Charlotte for a while, knowing that he saw Charlotte as a little sister too. Had anyone else offered, she’d have refused.

They took several more breaks, stopping for water at the stream, exhaustion and hunger mounting the entire time. After seven hours, it was with relief that most saw Camp Jaha in the distance. As the ragged group made their way towards the gates, shouts could be heard from within. People gathered to welcome them back and offer what food and water they could. Slowing to a stop outside the gates, Murphy carrying Charlotte stopped next to her. Eyeing her briefly, he spoke.

“You’re not coming inside, are you?”

“No. I’ve seen too much, done too much to be able to live inside these fences. I’ve killed or ordered the deaths of almost seven hundred people, all to keep them alive. How can they look at me with anything but pity, or like I'm a monster?”

“I don’t think you’re a monster Clarke, but I understand. I’m not sure I’ll stay long myself. Where will you go?”

“Out there. There’s so much life out there, to see, to experience. I want to live among the living. I’ve given the Arkers and the 100 the best chance at life I could, now it’s up to them. I won’t be far. Just do me a favor?” she asked, taking Charlotte from him.

“Name it.”

“Watch out for our people. I know Bellamy will try to take over with me gone, and I know that Abby will try to convince the rest that she should be the next Chancellor. Try to keep that from happening.”

“I will. You just take care of yourself Clarke. A couple of knives, a change of clothes, and a few medical supplies and rations aren’t much to take with you” he said, motioning towards the small pack she had with her from before the battle.

Nodding, she conceded the point, but she had to leave now, she felt it.

“I’ll do my best. May we meet again John.”

Scowling momentarily at her use of his first name, he nonetheless replied sincerely, looking her earnestly in the eye “May we meet again Clarke.”

He watched her walk away, towards the north he thought, until he could no longer see her. Shaking his head in sadness, he knew she had a tough road ahead of her, never mind her choice to walk it alone. She’d better take care of herself or he’d kick her ass.

Walking inside the camp, the gates closing behind him, he couldn’t help but note the finality of the sound. They **would** meet again, he’d make sure of it.


	2. The Living Are Hungry, And So Am I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A sad goodbye, the teasing begins, and Clarke sees an old friend, kind of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, two chapters in one day. I'm planning another tomorrow. Being snowed-in is bad for me, good for you! Enjoy folks, and PLEASE review. From LR and I, thanks for reading!

Since they’d left Mount Weather during the night, arriving at Camp Jaha after sunrise, Clarke had no reason not to continue for several more hours. Walking north through the forest, she soon came to a familiar area. Adjusting her course, she came upon the dropship, just as they’d left it.

Surrounding it were the incinerated remains of the three hundred grounders she’d killed. Their once sturdy walls were left with gaping openings from the attack, but fortunately they’d raised the ramp, so maybe something had been left behind. Pulling the lever to open it, she shifted Charlotte in her arms, and idea forming in her mind as to how she’d handle the last rites. Waling inside, she laid the body down gently before she turned to rummage around in the bags and belongings left behind. The twenty or so delinquents who’d died in the last grounder fight certainly weren’t coming back for it, and she didn’t think they’d mind.

Even in the time that they’d been gone, she still found nuts and other food, including some jerky, that was still usable. Packing it into a bigger bag she found along with the rest of what she’d brought, she also grabbed any medical supplies they had, mostly bandages and some of Monty’s moonshine. Grabbing one of the axes they’d made, she decided it was time to get to work.

Going outside, she went a ways from the dropship and began chopping. It was long, hard, back-breaking work, but she owned it to Charlotte to do this right. She knew that she could never manage to dig a hole deep enough to prevent animals from finding her grave, so, borrowing a page from the grounders, she’d send Charlotte into the next life with fire.

She paused only once, getting her fill and resting her hands that were already beginning to blister. Wrapping them with cloth, she got back to work. Finally, after about six hours, she decided she had enough wood. 

Dragging it back to where they’d buried the others from the 100 that had died, she began arranging it as she’d seen the grounders do for their funerals. It took her a few tries to get it right, the wood finally standing instead of toppling, but she managed. After building the sides and filling in the middle with smaller pieces and kindling, she arranged long logs along the top to serve as a bed. Going back to her scrap pile of branches, she separated out the greenery from the sticks, placing that on top to soften the surface.

Finally, she went back to the dropship and retrieved Charlotte. Carrying her to the makeshift pyre, she placed her gently in the center, cupping her cloth-covered cheek with tears in her eyes. Standing, she moved away to make a torch, wrapping it in cloth and dousing it with a little of Monty’s moonshine. Using flint and rock, she ignited it. 

Fire reflecting off her skin and flashing in her eyes, she stood still, staring at the girl she’d failed. Of all of the 100, this life, this gentle girl had been the one Clarke had most wanted to protect. She’d have traded any other life, her own included, but she wasn’t given that choice.

Her voice rough with disuse and emotion, she spoke gently but with passion.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I wasn’t strong enough, or smart enough, or a good enough leader to save you. I’m sorry that you’ll never get to grow up and see the beauty in this world.” Taking a deep breath, she continued.

“In peace, may you leave this shore. In love, may you find the next. Safe passage on your travels, until our final journey to the ground. May we meet again.”

With her final words spoken, she stepped forward and placed the torch at the corner, the wood catching immediately as she dropped the torch.

The wind was blowing to the side, keeping the smoke from Clarke’s eyes, but still they watered. She stood there for hours, long after the sun had set, as the fire burned away everything until nothing but ash remained.

Looking up at the stars, she gathered her axe and supplies, returning to the dropship to finally rest.

\-----------------------------------

Sitting in her tent set up in TonDC, Lexa couldn’t stop her mind from taking her back to the mountain, to Clarke, to the look in her eyes as she’d told her of the Spirits-damned deal with the Mountain.

Even now, Lexa could feel the crushing weight on her heart, her betrayal of Clarke cutting her to the bone. She knew she had no choice, that to refuse the deal would be to invite her own overthrow by the other clans. How could she put the lives of the Sky People ahead of her own?

She couldn’t, not even Clarke’s, and that is what condemned her.

Snorting, Lexa realized she had that backwards. Lexa wasn’t the one condemned, she had condemned Clarke and all of her people within the mountain to certain death. Without Lexa and her army, nothing would stop the mountain from taking what they wanted. With Clarke standing on their doorstep, they’d scoop her up and rip her apart as well.

Clutching her fist to her chest, she thumped it against her breastbone several times, trying to relieve this pain, the bitter ache of betrayal. The sure knowledge that the girl she’d known she loved from almost the beginning had died in agony and was now in pieces, her very bones used to make those Mountain fucks free to walk the Earth.

Over Lexa’s dead body. No, they may have had their truce, temporary as it may be, but she would surround that cursed mountain and not a single cockroach would be allowed to leave. She swore on the Spirits, on The Flame itself that she would deliver to Clarke the final revenge.

She’d sat there for hours, refusing food and drink, thinking the entire situation through over and over. She’d been up through the night after the retreat from the mountain, refusing to rest until exhaustion claimed her. She knew she still had hours to wait thanks to her nightblood.

Distracted, she didn’t react immediately to Anya opening the flap of her tent and walking inside. 

Anya observed her former seken, seeing the midnight black tracks from her eyes running down her face. Not since Costia had she seen Lexa cry.

_“You love her.”_

Snapping out of her thoughts, she glared at her general, trying in vain to stare her into submission. As if that had ever worked.

_“I have news from the mountain.”_

Jerking in her throne, her glare immediately shifted, first to hope, then to terror, then to the blank stare of Heda.

_“What news Anya, speak true.”_

_“One of the Azgeda captives, a girl named Echo, hid inside the mountain when our people were released. She knew that the Sky People were not being freed, and owing a debt for Murphy and Bellamy releasing her, she stayed to help. She was in an air vent near the chamber where they were drilling into the sky people and overheard their leader, Cage Wallace, talking to Clarke.”_

At the name, Lexa gasped. She’d hoped beyond hope that Clarke would’ve left, never setting foot back in the mountain. It seemed those hopes were dashed too. Nodding at Anya, she bid her to continue.

_“First, Clarke held their former leader, Dante Wallace hostage. When Cage refused to let Clarke’s people go, she executed him, allowing his son to hear.”_

A wicked grin spread across Lexa’s face, shared by Anya a moment later. Anya had hated Clarke in the beginning, but there was respect there. Saving her life, and Tris’, had helped. Seeing the light in Lexa’s eyes again as she discussed strategy with Clarke, as she discussed everything with Clarke, had thawed her the rest of the way. It also helped that Clarke was the most daring and brave Skaikru she had ever seen. Well, Raivon…

Lexa snapped her fingers, knowing from the dopey look on Anya’s face that she must be thinking of the Sky mechanic, Raven.

Coming out of her thoughts, Anya continued, her tone shifting to sadness.

_“Hearing his father take his last breath, Cage stormed the room with the Sky People. Echo could not see clearly at first, but it became clear that he sought revenge. Rather than taking Clarke’s mother, he took the child, Charlotte.”_

Frowning, Lexa recalled the bright and tough little girl. From what she’d seen, Clarke had treated her as a baby sister, perhaps even her own child.

_“While Clarke watched remotely, desperately telling the girl of her love, Cage shot Charlotte in the head.”_

Lexa’s fingers tightened around her throne, the wood creaking and her blood boiling. How dare that filth take the girl from Clarke! His father was an old man, a murderer at the end of his life! Her resolve tripled, none of those caged rats would leave the mountain alive.

_“Clarke’s pained shout echoed throughout the room, and it seemed as if the world held it’s breath waiting for her reaction. She spoke through the radio again, her voice was… different. Echo could not describe it beyond saying that it had a weight to it, the weight she has heard from you in the past during your speeches.”_

At this Lexa held up a hand for Anya to pause, her thoughts racing. Could it be? She hadn’t dared to hope, but she could feel The Flame within her take notice more and more as the story continued. At the description of Clarke’s voice, she felt a warmth spread through her. If her instincts were right, she realized, then she had betrayed the girl she had started to love and was destined to share her life with. She was so totally screwed. She waved at Anya to continue.

_“She told him that as he agonized in Hell, reflecting on what led him to his death, he should remember that moment, for she was sending him and all his cursed people directly there.”_

Yes, that sounded like something She would say.

_“Echo did not hear exactly what Clarke did next, but her voice echoed throughout the area to tell someone to guard themselves against the radiation. In the next instant, the mountain men, all of the mountain men, began to burn.”_

Sitting in shock, Lexa knew it had been Clarke, and she was beginning to believe that her instincts were true. First the scouts, then the three hundred warriors at the dropship. Now the mountain men.

_“They burned for several minutes until finally, none remained alive. Realizing that her help was no longer needed, Echo worked her way out of the air shaft. As she moved to make her escape from the mountain, she observed many of the bodies, burned as if smothered in flame from all sides, their clothes untouched. As they were all gathered in the dining area, Echo estimated their number at roughly three hundred and fifty, all dead.”_

Nodding, Lexa felt instant relief and glee that Clarke had apparently vanquished the mountain and lived.

_“So Anya, in less than two week’s time since encountering the mountain men, Clarke has freed you, helped free all of our people from their prison, and now utterly destroyed the enemy of every clan for decades, and almost single-handedly. No army at her back, just a handful of her allies and her own bravery and guile.”_

Anya was a big enough person to admit when a job was done well. She had misjudged the Sky girl at the start. She had spent the rest of her time knowing Clarke being more impressed by each new situation that Clarke overcame.

_“Yes, Commander. She has done the clans a great service, perhaps the greatest deed since you united the clans. I regret that I also have to report that Echo’s story was not told in private; several warriors overheard the tale. Those that were there all whispered a name by the end of the story… they are calling Clarke Wanheda.”_

A shock ran up Lexa’s spine. Nearly seven hundred dead at Clarke’s hand. Bravery, intelligence, the kind of leader that Lexa herself was, leading with understanding and care, not a brutish thug like Nia. The Flame was sure, these were the signs.

 _“And what happened with Clarke, with Wanheda?”_ Lexa asked, wanting to hear for certain of the girl’s triumph and departure from the mountain.

_“Echo left just before the Sky people made their way outside. She followed at a distance as Clarke led them back to their Camp Jaha, carrying the wrapped body of the girl almost the entire way, her general Murphy assisting her.”_

Lexa nodded, happy that he had been with Clarke. Surely he would have had a hand in assisting her in this great victory. She knew he acted like a prick. Looking at Anya, she wondered if it was a common trait with competent generals. 

_“Once they reached the camp, Clarke paused, watching her people enter through the gates. Echo could not hear what was said, but she and Murphy talked for several minutes. Based on what she could read of their lips, she told him that she could not live within the camp, worried that they would view her a monster for what she had done to free her people.”_

_“But that does not make sense. Why would people rely on Clarke over and over to save them, only to then scorn her for what she has done to ensure their survival?”_ It was something Lexa couldn’t fathom.

 _“I do not know Heda, but judging by Echo saying that Murphy did not argue the point with her, he must have agreed. What a backwards people, to be saved by the hand of a strong leader only to turn and spit on that hand in the next moment. I am glad that at least some of the Sky people we have dealt with, such as Clarke and Murphy and Kane, seemed normal. Then again, look at Abby and Jaha.”_ Maybe it had something to do with being an older Sky leader. While Kane had been a general, as he explained it, he was in charge of their peacekeepers. Perhaps it was just the politicians that were insane.

_“In any event, Clarke took the girl in her arms and recited their custom for parting. Murphy observed her until she had disappeared from sight, heading north towards the dropship. Murphy entered the camp, the gates closing behind him. As there didn’t appear to be anything else of note happening, Echo broke off and headed here, knowing that she should report what had happened. For an Azgeda, she is remarkably loyal and honorable to have relayed this information. I have no doubt that Nia would want it kept a secret, especially if this does indeed show the rebirth of Wanheda.”_

Deciding to think things through, she bade Anya to take a seat now that the report was done. Absently, she reached over and took a drink from her metal cup, the one that she’d been ignoring for hours.

The Flame had steered her towards Clarke from the beginning, sure that there was something about her. Lexa too had been intrigued, regardless. Clarke was fascinating, full of contradictions and wisdom so far beyond her years. So much of what Clarke believed ran against what Titus had taught to her from the beginning, but each of Clarke’s statements rang with a truthfulness to them that Lexa couldn’t ignore. Even The Flame had agreed with Clarke’s passionate statements that love was not weakness, and that life was, had to be about more than just survival. If these things were true, it would mean that Titus and his teachings were wrong. She’d have to revisit that later.

That would also explain Clarke’s reluctance to take things further, ‘not yet’ ringing in her mind. If Clarke were destined to be Wanheda reborn, but had not yet been awakened, she must have felt the pull, the same pull that Lexa felt. She was sure that it would be confusing to Clarke, and while Clarke wasn’t running away from it, she must have realized that it was not yet time, that the pieces to the puzzle were not yet aligned. Yes, she was sure that that was the reason for Clarke’s delay. After all, no one returned a kiss for that long without enjoying it and being interested. Twenty-two seconds, that’s how long. Not that Lexa was counting. Not at all. Pfft, that would be stupid.

After spending far more than twenty-two seconds reliving that kiss several times, she shifted on her throne, wondering why her tent was so hot and why her chest binding was so scratchy. And her undershorts so.. Oh. Shifting again, he addressed Anya, who had a smirk on her face.

_“And what do you believe Anya? Has Wanheda returned to us?”_

_“I am not sure Commander. If I had to guess, I would say that it is something in the making, but it had not yet come to pass. Perhaps there are more trials for her to face before The Spirit awakens within her. If she is Wanheda, or will be, that would mean a time of both great prosperity for our people, as well as great struggle. If Wanheda would defeat the mountain in a week, even in her unawakened state, what will she be needed for in her prime? It would also mean that, with The Spirits reunited, your nights will be much less lonely. I’d advise you to practice both combat and your flexibility exercises. Word has it that the last time of reunification, there were many sleepless nights in the tower.”_ Grinning slyly, Anya chuckled as she watched a slight blush darken Lexa’s cheeks.

_“Let us not get ahead of ourselves. If there is more she must endure, more than what she has already faced, the loss of so many of her people, the loss of a cherished sister, consider what awaits her in the future.”_

Sobering, Anya nodded and stood. She knew their conversation was at an end. Bowing her head respectfully before leaving, she did not envy Clarke the hardship and pain in the path ahead. She was thankful that she was not one of The Spirits, for as sure as she was that it was an unparalleled honor, it must also suck more harshly than Indra, even if she didn’t use teeth.

\------------------------------------------

Waking the next morning, Clarke dropped out of the hammock onto the floor of the dropship. It had provided shelter for the night, but she wasn’t going to stay here another day. Too many memories, both good and bad. Okay, mostly bad.

Eating a light breakfast, she gathered her things and moved through the gates. Pausing by the sign that they used to mark the names of the dead, she dug through her pack and pulled out a sharp knife, scratching Charlotte’s name into the metal at the bottom, one final name on a list far too long.

Clarke traveled for several hours, observing the forest around her, looking for signs of a good spot to call home for the foreseeable future. She crossed another stream and then followed it east for a time, remembering that there had been caves near the old van that they’d hidden from the fog inside. Finding the van, she came across several more streams within an hour and decided to follow them to their source. She remembered the waterfall near where they’d found Raven’s pod, and knew that the terrain was favorable for what she was seeking.

Finally coming to a much larger stream, some twenty feet across, she followed it’s winding path upriver, spotting several small caves along the way, growing larger as she went. Rounding another bend, she hit paydirt.

There, about thirty feet from the rocky shore was a cave in the wall of a small cliff, some forty feet high. A few hundred feet away, the cliff dropped off and met the ground, giving her the perfect way up should she need to go in that direction. Getting closer, she pulled out the only other technology she had with her besides her gun, a flashlight taken from Mount Weather.

Easing inside the cave slowly, aware that animals often used them for, well, exactly what she was going to use it for, she scouted carefully. The cave wasn’t very deep, only about fifteen feet, or so she thought. Reaching the back wall, she shined her flashlight around, revealing the rest of the cave to one side. From the entrance, the cave took a sharp turn to the right, with the bulk of it passed the turn. Understanding dawned and she realized that the shape of the cave would serve to keep wind and rain out, making it an ideal place to call home.

She searched the ground, finding no tracks. She looked for cracks or holes in the rocks where snakes or other creatures could be hiding, finding none. Looking at the shape of the ceiling, it seemed to have a gentle slope upwards all the way to the mouth of the cave, which would allow any smoke from a fire to vent properly rather than accumulating and suffocating her in her sleep. Yes, she thought, this will do nicely.

Shrugging off her pack, she unstrapped the axe she’d taken from the dropship, knowing that she needed to start gathering wood and food quickly. Going up the embankment, she decided to get the wood first. Looking for any fallen and therefore dry trees, she found one within a few minutes. Quickly setting to work, she hacked at the sizable tree for over an hour, deciding to tackle the difficult thick end first. She had the time to work on it now, and that might not be the case in the days to come. Once she had enough wood to last her a day and a night, probably more, she started carrying it down and into the cave. Once that was done, she took pity on her still blistered and now bloody hands and went to the river. Dunking them in the water, she wrapped them with more cloth and hoped that they’d heal soon. Sooner or later her hands would toughen-up. 

That task done, she used rocks in the river to cross to the other side, only moderately drenching herself when she slipped off. She’d deny the girlish shriek she let out when she hit it’s frigid surface. Surely there must be an animal she could blame it on. An owl. Nodding, she moved into the underbrush and withdrew the gun from the back of her pants and crouched down to wait. Surely animals must come here to drink. She’d just wait for nature to do it’s thing.

Waiting was boring.

After three boring hours spent trying not to think of how badly she had to pee and wondering if the smell of sweat was coming from her, several dear approached the river. Trying not to squeal with glee, she waited and tried to think logically about which to take. Leave the biggest, it’s always best to let the best one live to ensure it passed on it’s genes. Leave the smallest, because killing the young was a waste. That left just one. Clarke took careful aim, knowing a handgun without a scope wasn’t a great weapon to hunt with, but it was all she had. She lined up the shot, making sure the deer and gun were steady. Taking one last breath, she exhaled slowly so her aim wasn’t jostled.

Apparently her weight shifted, as all three deer immediately looked in her direction. As her shot rang out, the other two ran for the trees frantically seeking safety.

Clarke rushed from the underbrush directly at the felled deer. Seeing it still twitching, she knew she’d only wounded it. As she approached, she could see the wound in it’s chest, having missed the heart but wounding it enough that it’d bleed to death in another minute or two. Putting her gun away, she instead pulled out her knife. Letting it suffer wasn’t right, and the deer was giving it’s life so that she could live. She had to respect that.

“Yu gonplei ste odon.” She slit its throat, as she had down for Atom in their first days on the ground.

It had just felt right to say. Shrugging, she removed her jacket and rolled up her sleeves, promptly starting to clean her kill. Using the knowledge she’d gained through her medical training as well as what she’d gleaned watching the designated people at the dropship, she completed the task in about half an hour, separating the meat and edible organs from the rest, like the intestines. She also did her best to skin the hide, knowing her clothes wouldn’t last forever on the ground.

That done, she began carting the useful pieces back to her cave, finding a more shallow place to cross. She placed the meat and organs inside the cave on a flat rock near where she’d build her fire, stretching the hide over another near the entrance. Taking the head, feet, and other inedible parts to her side of the river, she left them on the shore. If anything smelled the blood and came to investigate, she might get two kills for the price of one. Unless it was a pauna. If it was a pauna, she was running until her legs fell off because she was fresh out of cement and steel cages. Next time she went off to go it alone, she was definitely bringing grenades. Grenades and a missile.

She stacked the wood in a pit she’d dug in the center of the large part of the cave, leaving plenty of room at the back for a sleeping area. Come to think of it, she needed to gather some soft vegetation to make a sleeping area. Getting the fire started, she moved outside and quickly climbed the embankment after ensuring that no pauna had come for the remains yet.

She went to work finding sticks that she’d need to skewer the meat and roast it. As she gathered several, knowing that they wouldn’t stand up to the heat for long, she also thought that she should’ve brought plates, and cookware, and utensils. 

I wonder if there’s a camping store near here. Would they take credit?

Returning to the cave with the sticks, the fire was still getting going, so she left again, scouting the riverbank for another thing she’d forgotten, smooth rocks. Taking four at a time, she made trips back and forth, surrounding her fire pit with them. Not only would the rocks reflect heat, they’d also serve to keep the fire contained should any of the embers blow away.

With that taken care of, she got busy cooking the meat, deciding to worry about the organs last. As she finished with the last of the meat, a sound outside drew her attention. Standing and making her way to the mouth of the cave as stealthily as she could, she gazed around the corner, where she was met with the sight of an old friend.

There, eating what was left of the deer, was a panther. With two heads.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please kudos and comment, we love hearing from you!


	3. History Repeats Itself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke's life of solitude continues, until it doesn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know you were expecting this a day ago. Blizzards suck. Unless you're talking about the Dairy Queen kind, then those rule. Especially Oreo. Now I want a DQ Oreo Blizzard, thanks readers!
> 
> Anyway, here's the next chapter. Things will start really moving from here, so hold onto your asses. Not literally, because how could you scroll? That's just silly.
> 
> Please read and comment, thanks!

Facing a panther was fucking scary, even when you have a gun in one hand and a big fucking knife in the other. As Clarke watched, the two heads each gripped the opposite end of what was probably the stomach of the dear and tore in opposite directions, spraying blood on the rocks and it’s own muzzle.

Gripping the gun tighter in her sweaty hand, she prepared herself of what she had to do, not just for food but to ensure that once it finished, it didn’t follow its nose to the roasting meat in her cave. Aiming carefully, she steadied her hand and slowly exhaled before pulling the trigger.

Nothing happened.

Well, that’s not entirely true. The metallic click of the firing pin uselessly striking the non-ejected casing from the previous bullet certainly produced a reaction. The head closest to her swiveled to look directly at her. Cursing herself, she fumbled with the gun to clear the chamber, noticing for the first time the dirt caked into the slide, obviously preventing it from moving properly.

That’s when the panther leaped.

As she crashed to the ground, losing the gun but maintaining her grip on her knife, Clarke cursed herself for taking her eyes off the danger. With her now empty main hand, she fumbled on the ground for something while her offhand arm was busy, forearm braced across the necks of the panther, trying to hold its snapping heads away from her face. She could feel claws digging into her torso and thighs, the material of her pants and jacket no serious protection from it’s razors.

One of the snapping heads moved close enough to smell it’s disgusting breath clearly, the jaws opening in front of her face not a half inch from her nose. Her forearm trembling from the exertion, she swung the rock she’d grabbed in her main hand as hard as she could. The resulting crunch and yelp preceded a splash of hot blood washing across her face and the thud of the immobile head landing on her chest. Blinking rapidly, she made to swing again for the head on the left but the angle was wrong. Losing her grip on the rock, she instead pushed against the chest with her right hand, trying to hold it at bay and free up her left.

With all the force she could manage, she drove the knife in her left hand into the neck of the still-moving head. Twisting the knife as it tried to rear back, she tore a bloody trough through the flesh and tendon. The whimpering mewls from the animal filled her ears along with her own pounding heartbeat as she heaved the animal to the side, trying to free herself from under its weight.

Forcing herself up to her knees, she began a frantic search for the gun she’d dropped. Finding it several feet away, she quickly scooped it up and, being done with the knife for the moment, dropped it in favor of making it work properly, knowing that she’d feel better when she’d put a bullet through both heads.

It was at that moment that she realized that she fucked up. The lesson that life had just tried to teach her about not taking her eyes off the danger was brought home when she heard the crunch of gravel behind her. Turning her head, she saw the panther, one head limp with blood gushing from it’s neck. Unfortunately for her, the head that’d been introduced to the rock appeared to now be conscious again, and pissed. As it leaped at her, she pivoted and fired.

The impact of the panther drove her to the ground again, and she lay there stunned for a moment before moving. Looking at the bullet hole between the eyes of the second head, she breathed a sigh of relief before once again rolling it off her. Now finally dead, she was able to catch her breath.

She put another bullet through each head, just to be sure.

Exhausted, she hauled herself over to the river and tucked the gun in her waistband. She then removed her shoes and socks, setting them aside before she waded in fully clothed in her slightly perforated pants and jacket. Dunking herself under water, she used her hands to scrub at her face, eager to free herself of the blood painted on her face and hair. Raising her head above water, she also briefly scrubbed at the front of her jacket before exiting the river. 

Returning to the cave to check the fire, she found it still burning. She added another couple of logs to it and draped her coat on a nearby rock, hoping the heat would dry it faster. Returning outside, she again set to work cleaning her kill. This time the parts that couldn’t be used were put in the river to float downstream. She had no need for another fight today, that was for sure. Taking the meat inside, rinsing off her hands in the river before and after, she also gathered her socks and boots before returning to the cave to stay.

She used the next hour to finish cooking all of the meat panther. She’d have to construct a framework to stretch the hides tomorrow, otherwise they’d be useless. She had no rope or twine, but maybe a thin enough vine would do.

Finishing the cooking, she looked over and remembered that she had yet to get the materials for her bed. Sighing, she put on her socks and shoes, standing with her dry but stiff clothes. Feeling the jacket, she decided to leave it to dry more and exited the cave. Climbing the embankment, she found what she needed fairly quickly. Making several trips, she layered a few inches of what she guessed were pine needles onto the flat surface a few feet from the fire at the very back of the cave. Careful to spread them evenly while filling in any dips in the rock, she then covered it with the second blanket she had, intending to use the first to cover her. Checking the fire, she made sure that it was banked and would continue to burn lowly throughout the night, adding another two pieces of wood just in case. 

Eating a small portion of the deer and panther meat, she decided that she’d also have to forage for berries, nuts, and any vegetables she could find tomorrow. She could survive on protein, but her body would suffer without other food groups.

Finishing eating, she settled in for the night, seeing by the light that sunset was rapidly approaching. Getting comfortable and using her pack of clothes as a pillow, she decided that she’d done alright for her first day, almost dying repeatedly notwithstanding. 

Her sleep was filled with dreams of children screaming in pain as they burned, of Charlotte looking at her accusingly, not saying a word, a bullet hole through her head. In others, Maya was staring at her in terror, screaming ‘Why? I helped you!’.

She woke up many times through the night, sometimes screaming, sometimes gasping. She’d restock the fire and try to get more sleep, knowing that there’d be no chance to take a vacation day tomorrow, not if she wanted to survive.

As dawn broke, Clarke was in the cave, up for some time. She ate a bit more of the meat, supplemented with some of the nuts she’d recovered from the dropship. She’d checked and made sure that they weren’t jobi nuts, having no wish to freak out and hallucinate alone in a cave with a gun and knives.

As she headed out, she decided to add one more task to her list. Knowing that she needed to keep it safe, she pulled Dante’s keycard from her pack and wrapped it in plastic that she’d taken from some of the medical supplies. Heading back to the waterfall, as good a landmark as any, she found a boulder on one side that was a good twenty feet from the shore. When she viewed it from the right angle, it resembled a koala she’d once seen in a book.

Moving to the side away from the river, she dug a hole with her hands and a knife about two feet deep, just to be sure it wouldn’t wash away. Ensuring the card was wrapped tightly, the plastic wrapped around it four or five times, she placed it at the bottom and filled in the hole. Once that was done, she used her fingers and a branch with leaves to restore the spot to a natural look, guarding against anyone finding it but her.

That done, she returned to the forest and began her search for what she’d need to stretch and then tan the hides.

She spent many hours in the woods that day, returning in the late afternoon with her bounty, carrying the materials for the hides and with a pick full of berries and nuts.

She decided that, despite having three spare magazines of ammunition, she needed to conserve it as much as she could. Tomorrow she’d practice with the more balanced knife she had, learning to throw it correctly as she knew the grounders did. Useful skills that can save your life are never a waste of time.

Her life continued on like this for days. At the end of the first day of knife practice, she managed to hit the tree. At the end of the second, she was hitting it more than once. The third day she got confident and carved a circle for a torso with a center spot in it heart. Feeling ambitious, she carved another above it for a head.

Clarke hadn’t had Earth Skills as much as the rest of The 100, so she’d observed what they’d done to try to feed the camp, including making traps. She spent her days either hunting, checking and resetting traps, or practicing with her knife throwing adventure.

On the sixth day, she decided that practicing with only one knife was a mistake. What happens when she’d thrown it, and was left with the other, having different balance and weight? She added the second knife to her practice. It was slow going, but by the end of that day, she hit the tree almost all of the time with the second.

On the eleventh day, she ran out of wood from the first fallen tree she’d found. Gathering her axe, she went to scout for a new one. She’d enjoyed her time in the woods so far, trying to step with less force, teaching herself to not walk through the forest like a rampaging pauna, as Lexa had called it. Making a face, she decided it was time to really think about what had happened.

Yes, Lexa had abandoned her and her people at the mountain. Yes, she was still unbelievably pissed about it. When she was honest with herself, really honest, she wasn’t sure that, in Lexa’s position, she would’ve refused the offer. Yes, it was a shitty thing to do, but the guarantee of getting all your people back without losing any more, not that day and never in the future? That was too good of a deal to pass up. That’s why Dante had suggested it to Cage. They knew, as Clarke should have, that the deal would be the one way to drive a wedge between the Arkers and the grounders even with all the hate the grounders had for decades of kidnapping, murder, torture, and the rest.

Clarke wasn’t mad that the grounders had taken the deal to walk away from the Arkers, not really. She was mad that **Lexa** had taken the deal and walked away from **her**. That’s what this all boiled down to, a personal betrayal. Clarke knew what she felt for Lexa, the attraction, the pull that resonated in her soul. She had thought that Lexa felt the same way. She was so sure that Lexa would be by her side, that even in the short time they’d known one another, the chemistry, the affection, the yearning was shared, or why did she kiss Clarke to begin with?

No, if Lexa felt the same way, Clarke knew that it was that idiotic lesson that had been pounded into Lexa taking shape in reality, ‘love is a weakness’. Snorting to herself, she decided that if there was another perfect example that the opposite was true, she couldn’t think of it. If Lexa had followed her heart rather than her head, yes, more of her people would’ve died, but the outcome at the mountain would’ve been much different. Not for the guilty, but for the innocent, like Maya and Vincent and the rest of the resistance. It would’ve been different for Charlotte, most likely. Cage, Dante, Emerson and the rest of the disgusting fucks would’ve died a lot more slowly. Lexa’s people, despite losing warriors, would’ve had the pride of vanquishing a long-standing enemy. Clarke wouldn’t have had to pull that switch most likely.

Sighing, she decided to stop thinking about what if’s and instead focus on what now’s. She knew that Lexa’s heart, every day if not every hour or even every minute, would be telling her head to get fucked. You couldn’t kiss someone like that, look at her like Lexa did, and not feel. Those feelings were probably tearing her up inside. Clarke decided that once she was able to put the hate and anger behind her, she might eventually head in the direction of Polis. ‘It’ll change the way you see us Clarke’, that’s what Lexa had said. She couldn’t damn an entire people for the shitty mistake of their leader. Lincoln, Anya, Ryder, Sam, Nyko… all of the amazing people she’d met during her time with Lexa, they’d proved that the grounders were more than what Lexa’s decision said they were.

Not for the first time, she wondered what moron had taught Lexa that lesson. Surely it must’ve predated Costia. Lexa had spoken of some type of position, a Flame Keeper or something, that advised and taught the future Heda. Yes, based on what she’d heard, this jackass Titus was probably the source of that little nugget. Nugget of shit. How the hell was that any way to live your life? Of course you couldn’t let your heart sway every decision, but you can’t rule with logic alone either. Where was the compassion, the mercy, the love and care you feel for those you lead? If she ever met him, she decided to see how much he put his own advice to use. She’d use her very logical and rational knee to utterly obliterate his balls, see if he responded rationally then.

Pausing in her musing and her walking, she realized that the sound of wildlife around her had stopped some time ago. Looking around, she realized that there was only ever one explanation for a quiet forest. Reaching for the gun in her waistband, she was proven right as something landing on her back drove her to the ground. Unlike last time though, it wasn’t an animal.

As her arms were twisted behind her back, she felt her gun pulled out of it’s resting place and taken before she was also relieved of her knives. Struggling, she heard a thump next to her and, glancing to the side, she saw a pair of white fur-covered boots. The newcomer pushed her head into the ground and braced her shoulders, giving aid to the person who’d landed on her.

Mind racing, Clarke continued to squirm against their hold until she felt the edge of a knife against her throat. Ceasing her movement, she decided it’d be better to conserve her strength and wait for the right moment. Surely these people would make a mistake.

“Look, tell the Commander to leave me alone. I did her dirty work for her and if she ever wants to see me again, this isn’t the way to get me to forgive her for abandoning us at the mountain.”

Their chuckles at her statement were disturbing. You didn’t find grounders willing to chuckle about their Commander, to her face or otherwise.

“Look, if I’m trespassing, I’m sorry. I’ll go somewhere else. Just tell me what you want.”

“Shof op, Skai girl. Our Kwin wants a word with you.” A girl’s voice, from behind her. Kwin? Queen. Feeling a shiver run down her back, she realized the only queen, or Kwin, she’d heard of was the ruler of the clan to the north. Azgeda. The same cunt who’d chopped off Costia’s head and mailed it to Lexa as a gift for joining the coalition.

Fuck.

‘Okay, don’t panic. They haven’t chopped off my head, so clearly they want something else. I’ll be alone, far from Lexa or any other ally, unarmed, probably bound.’

FUCK.

The girl behind her obviously took her silence as understanding, wrapping Clarke’s wrists and forearms with rope, taking no chances. Once finished, she was yanked to her feet. Looking around, she saw eight warriors plus the girl at her back. They were all dressed in leather and white furs with blue face paint. All of their gazes held either curiosity of some kind of weird respect, something she was sure she’d have time to analyze later.

“Look, tell your Kwin that I appreciate the invitation, really I do, but I’m quite busy at the moment. I’d be happy to come visit, in, say, a week after Hell freezes-over.”

The girl yanked Clarke around to face her, noses inches apart.

“Oh but it has, Skai girl. Where you’re going undoubtedly qualifies as both.”

Opening her mouth to tell this bitch where she can shove her Kwin, Clarke was instead gagged from behind. That accomplished, a rough sack was thrown over her head and tied to prevent it falling off. Finally, as she began to struggle, she felt several pairs of hands grab her and physically lift her off her feet before they simply carried her away like a sack of grain.

They didn’t travel far, and before Clarke realized what was happening, they’d hoisted her up into a saddle. She felt another rider mount the horse behind her, reaching around her for the reins. As she contemplated throwing herself off, she felt a feminine hand grip the back of her neck like a steel clamp slamming shut. 

“Do not even think about it Skai girl. If you fall and break a bone or get trampled, we’ll simply scoop you back up and keep riding. It will take days to reach our destination, and we will do nothing for the agony you’ll endure. With the trackers we have, you have no hope of escape. Save your strength, you will need it for what’s ahead.”

Shivering again despite herself, she held still as the horse was turned and began moving. She could hear the other riders around her and behind. They must be surrounding the horse that she was on, like a cage of warriors and horses.

She started to work on freeing herself from the ropes before the grip returned, twice as hard. She tried the best she could, but she still cried out in pain around her gag before ceasing her motions. Perhaps she could find a rock or something to cut them against when they stopped.

There was no discussion in the group and no pause for hours. When they did stop, it appeared that it was to water the horses. She was grabbed roughly and taken from the saddle. A moment later, a thud beside her signaled the girl had joined her on the ground. Grabbed by the shoulder, she was marched away from the group.

“The mighty Skai girl will not sully my saddle through thoughtlessness. I will remove your hood, and that is all. You will relieve yourself before we continue.”

The hood was yanked off after it was untied, Clarke almost losing her balance as she was blinded by the first light in hours. The girl came around to face her and Clarke good her first good look at her. She had dark hair, and what appeared to be an intentional scar on her forehead in the shape of a diamond. She also had the look of hate in her eyes.

“I am Ontari kom Azgeda. I will lower your garments and help you to squat. Any tricks, any attempts to flee, and for the remainder of the five day journey you will relieve yourself in your pants and I will obtain a new saddle at our destination. Are we clear?”

Nodding, she made no move to struggle was her pants were undone. Yes, it felt like a violation, but one she would have to endure if she wanted to avoid a messy five days. Besides, it wasn’t as if this would be the last violation in her future, and at least it was a girl.

After undoing her pants and lowering her zipper, Ontari disappeared behind her. Two hands grabbed the material at her hips and pulled down, taking both the pants and her underwear with it. Hiding her embarrassment at being undressed by a stranger, she steadied herself for whatever this assistance would be.

Ontari came back around, glancing up and down her body.

“Hmm, you still have winter fat on you. That will change soon. I’m going to maneuver you to stand with your back to the trunk of a tree. You will bend at the knees and I will lean you back until you are against it, so that you can avoid using the bathroom on your pants.”

Ontari did just that, and Clarke felt the rough bark of the tree dig into her jacket and hold her up as if sitting in a chair. Ontari apparently decided that she was helpless enough in this position and looked away as Clarke peed. Finishing, she cleared her throat and Ontari yanked her back to a standing position before pulling up her underwear and pants, thankfully one at a time to avoid tangles.

That accomplished, she led Clarke back towards the horses before stopping.

“I am going to remove your gag and give you water. Do not scream, as there is no one to hear you. Also know that you were close to the border of Azgeda, and we have already crossed into our territory. Anyone who might hear you will not help you.”

Trying not to let that piece of shitty news get her spirits down, Clarke nodded. Without water, any strength she had and hope of escape would fade. Taking what water was offered from a skin, she drank all she could before it was taken away, gag immediately returning. A moment later, the hood was thrown back on and tied, and the hands returned to hoist her onto the horse.

The routine continued for days, stopping twice a day for water and to use the bathroom, camping for a few hours at night and being fed once in the evening and once in the morning. She was allowed to feed herself, with no utensils, before her hands were bound behind her back again. At night, she not only slept with her hands tied, but they also tied her ankles and returned the hood. Even if she did try to escape at night, she’d have no ability to move and no sight to orient herself, let alone any way to make it passed the two warriors on watch at all times.

As they traveled farther north, it got colder, a lot colder. After the second day, her teeth began to chatter. On the third day, more out of annoyance with the sound than out of charity, she felt a fur thrown across her shoulders and wrapped around to her front. By the fourth day, her legs and ass ached, not only from riding a horse but also from the thin pants she wore letting in the cold. The wind felt like daggers stabbing through her.

On the fifth day, she began to hear different sounds. After a few minutes, she was able to deduce that they were nearing a city, the sounds of people going about their activities was carrying across the snow-covered land to her. A short time later, the sound of the horses hooves on the ground changed. Clarke imagined that it was the sound of horses on rock. A few minutes later, Ontari spoke to someone else.

_“Send a messenger to the Kwin. Tell her we arrive with her package and will be there shortly.”_

Clarke had been described as many things in her life: asshole, bitch, pain in the ass, but never a package. If she was viewed as a thing rather than a person, that didn’t bode well for her.

It was another thirty minutes before they finally stopped. Clarke’s attempts to keep track of where she was based on turns and sounds was useless, she’d lost track after five minutes.

Being pulled unceremoniously from the horse, her wobbly legs almost didn’t hold her upright. She heard Ontari dismount behind her and her arms and shoulders were roughly grabbed by two people, being forced to follow in the girl’s wake.

She heard doors, heavy and metal, being thrown open in their path. The feet of warriors moving on stone.

For days, she’d tried not to let her absolute terror take control. Fear and hopelessness would only serve to make things worse, and she was sure that they were bad enough without her helping. Being led into what sounded like a stone and steel fortress, however, made reality sink home in a way she couldn’t describe. Feeling the twinge in her head, she decided that no, she didn’t need the twinge to tell her how fucked she was, the rest of her head was telling her that quite well enough.

A final set of doors were opened and she was all but dragged inside the room. It sounded large, with a high ceiling if her ears could be trusted. After another fifty feet, she was shoved to the floor on her knees and held there. She heard the sounds of several more pairs of knees hit the ground a moment later.

_“My Kwin, we have returned as ordered with the Skai girl.”_

A voice from ahead of her spoke up, cold as the room she was in.

_“Show her to me.”_

At that command, she felt hands untying the hood and a moment later it was yanked off her head.

The room was massive. The first thing her eyes noted though was the throne in front of her, on a raised dais. While Lexa’s was beautifully made with artistically entwined branches, this was it’s opposite. Made from what had to be human bones, legs, arms, and decorating the top, skulls. On it sat a woman in her late thirties, tall, with hair so blonde it was almost white. Dressed in a combination of black leather and the whitest furs, she wore a crown that looked like it was made of ice crystals with silver jewelry on her neck and both hands, matching buckles on the leather. Her icy blue eyes stared at Clarke as if she were hiding the last steak from a starving woman.

So, this was the bitch that had killed Costia. Clarke took a moment to renew her assessment of the situation. She was fucked, like, a lot. What could she possibly have, beyond her life, that this asshole would want?

“Hello Clarke kom Skaikru, Slayer of the Mountain. Welcome to Azgeda. Your stay here will be long and painful until finally, when my use for you has ended, when I’ve taken your power Wanheda, you’ll be chopped into pieces and sent to Lexa one piece at a time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, it ended there. Next chapter will be worked on some tonight and probably finished tomorrow. I make no promises of posting schedule though because I'm always a day late.
> 
> Please comment, we love them!


	4. Let the Games Begin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke shows Ontari her true face. And her boobs.
> 
> She should've went to Great Clips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took a while. It's hard, knowing where you want to go, and what you have to do to get there, but having to hammer out the words to take you from point A to point Z. After several days of abortive attempts, here we are.
> 
> To make up for the delay, this chapter is 5,177 words.
> 
> Enjoy.

Trying to suppress her fear, or at least not show it, Clarke stared at Nia, trying to process her words and arrive at some other conclusion, any conclusion that would mean she wasn’t completely screwed.

“What does that mean, Wanheda?”

Narrowing her eyes, Nia looked Clarke up and down, silently assessing, weighing, cataloguing the girl in front of her. Deciding that it would hurt nothing, and may indeed get the ball rolling, she decided to answer.

“Wanheda is what the people have begun to call you. The Commander of Death. In our pantheon, The Flame, or Heda, and The Light, or Wanheda, sit at the top unopposed. That is what I will take from you little Skai Prisa.”

If Clarke lived to be a hundred billion, she never wanted to be called Princess again, in any language.

Nia left her throne, ignoring Ontari and the guards as if they’re not there, leaving them kneeling just like Clarke was. As she approached, Clarke realized that she must be nearly six feet tall. Nia gestured to the guards, ordering them away, leaving Clarke and Ontari alone with her besides the guards scattered around the walls.

She circled around Clarke slowly, measuring her up, eyeing her from top to bottom before stopping in front of her and grabbing her chin.

“I will take everything. Your pain, your blood, your sweat, your tears. I will tear you apart until there is nothing left and finally, when Wanheda is revealed, I will take her from you as well.”

Nia looked over at Ontari, disappointment appearing on her face for a moment. As her features smoothed back to normal, she issued her orders.

“Take her to the dungeon and prepare her. We begin today.”

“Yes, my Kwin.” At that response, Ontari grabbed Clarke and lifted her to her feet, steadying her before pushing her back towards the doors. As she left, Clarke looked back, catching Nia staring straight at her, through her. Suppressing a shiver, she faced forward and was led to another double door in the wall. The guards posted on either side of it opened it, and Clarke felt her terror grow as screams echoed off the walls, stone steps leading down.

Once Clarke was out of sight, Nia turned and exited the throne room, going to her study just off to the side. Once there, she moved to a desk, retrieving a piece of paper, ink and quill. She quickly began writing in Gonasleng.

“I have done as you asked. She is here. You will provide what was promised should normal means prove ineffective. Remember what will happen if you refuse or fail. The Light, and eventually The Flame will be mine. It is by your choice how much death and destruction that costs, including your own.”

Satisfied, she sent for her best spy. Well, the best she had until Echo was returned from the mountain. The blonde spy entered a moment later, bowing deeply.

 

_”You will take this message to the traitor in Polis. Be swift, but ensure that no one learns of it. Once it is delivered, if he wishes to send a return message, carry it back to me. Again, make haste but be cautious, we cannot afford discovery.”_

_”Of course, my Kwin. It will be done immediately.”_

Bowing deeply again, she took the message from Nia’s outstretched hand and, at Nia’s gesture, immediately left.

Nia contemplated what steps she would have to take with the sky girl. There would be torture, yes, but that alone would not be enough to force Wanheda to manifest. The help from the traitor, likewise, would be no guarantee, though according to him, it would give her all the pieces needed. She knew that she would have to destroy the girl pieces by piece, tear her down to the very foundations of her soul and rebuild her. From what her spies had relayed of the sky girl before the mountain, she knew that this Clarke was no great warrior. She had will, and tenacity, but she relied on others for their muscle. Yes, that would have to change. She needed the girl to be in her absolute prime before she took Wanheda’s power if she wanted to guarantee her victory over that whelp Lexa.

She knew that she couldn’t possess both The Flame and The Light herself, for how could you be the living incarnation of two Goddesses at once? No, when the time came, The Flame would fall to Ontari and Nia would rule over and crush the girl under her will. Nia, as The Light, would rule supreme, with Ontari as The Flame as her right hand.

Ontari had been such a bitter disappointment. After the traitor had delivered years ago, Nia had the means to make her into a nightblood. A promising warrior, Ontari had been the perfect test to see if it would work, and it did. The traitor had been unwilling to face the possibility of The Flame being lost to a non-nightblood, so he had provided two doses of the serum. After Ontari had survived, Nia used the second on herself, of course. She was now stronger, heartier, healthier than ever. All that remained was to obtain one of the Spirits.

Ontari, on the other hand, had not turned into the perfect little copy that Nia wanted. She was an amazingly skilled warrior, no doubt, but her willfulness had only increased once she’d been made a nightblood. Well, Nia thought, this whole situation might prove to be the opportunity to fix that as well. Grinning wickedly, Nia began to formulate additional plans for the sky girl, with Ontari being glued to her hip every step of the way. If they became unlikely friends or even just allies, the devastation when the sky girl was utterly destroyed would serve to break Ontari as well.

Yes, the future was looking quite bright indeed.

 

\--------------------------------------------

 

Leading the sky girl down the steps, Ontari considered what was about to happen. She didn’t wish this fate on anyone, even her worst enemy. The sky girl was far from that. What little Ontari knew about her told her that this Clarke acted with honor, even by the rigid standards of their culture. She led fairly, with strength as well as compassion, which was more than Ontari could say about Lexa or the Kwin.

She knew that the Kwin had many plans for Clarke, plans that would take months, if not longer. She’d received her orders before the sky girl’s arrival. Nothing in them gave Ontari the impression that Clarke’s future would contain anything but misery, degradation, soul-crushing agony, and finally death. At least it wasn’t her.

Entering a stone room containing a few trunks and a table, she turned Clarke to face her. Clarke could see that two huge guards had followed them into the room, standing by the door.

“I am going to untie your hands. From where we stand right now, there are twenty-two guards between you and the exit to this building, with hundreds more between it and the closest exit from the city walls. You would be smart to save your strength, you’ll need it.”

Nodding, Clarke could only agree. As Ontari untied her hands, she rubbed her wrists, trying to get circulation moving again. She knew that whatever was going to happen, she had to survive. If not for herself, then for Lexa. Even as angry as Clarke was with her, she knew that losing the woman she loved a second time would probably be Lexa’s undoing. How many times could you come back from that?

“Take off your clothes.”

“WHAT?!” _'No no no no nonono….'_

“Take off your clothes. If you do not do it willingly, they will be cut from your body.” As Ontari finishes speaking, she snaps her fingers. The two pauna-sized guards took a single step forward, the message clear.

Reluctantly, Clarke started removing her clothes. First the jacket, then her boots, her socks coming next. Looking back to Ontari, who had a blank look on her face, she reached down and lifted the hem of her shirt before drawing it over her head, it too joining the jacket on the table.

“Am I..” clearing her throat, her voice shaking, she tried again.

“Everything?”

“Yes, sky girl. Do not worry…” Clarke began to unfasten her pants and lower them “we have no plans to violate you today.” It was the ‘today’ that made Clarke freeze. Looking back up, she could see the seriousness in Ontari’s eyes, no hint at all of humor. Gulping, the pants joined the rest on the table. Turning her back to the other girl, Clarke unfastened her bra before it too went on the table.

Before she could think about it, she turned around, flashing Ontari and the two guards with her very ample breasts. Inhaling deeply, she dashed for the door. They were on her before she managed three steps.

One guard grabbed each arm and shoulder, and Ontari simply walked out of the room, the guards dragging Clarke behind her clad only in her panties. They didn’t have far to go.

Down the corridor and around the corner, Ontari opened the double doors to a very large chamber. Torches mounted on the walls, the one feature Clarke latched onto were the chains. Two chains dangled from the ceiling, a manacle at the end of each, with a bar between them about a foot higher, keeping the chains spread about three feet apart. There were two more chains with manacles bolted to the floor, just a bit more than shoulder-width apart.

The two guards dragged her to the chains and forced her wrists into them. As she tried to struggle, pulling at her arms to keep them free, Ontari knelt down and took advantage of her distraction to fasten the manacles around her ankles.

Feeling that, Clarke looked down, and again her distraction was put to good use by her captors. Both wrists were cuffed almost immediately, and try as she could, Clarke couldn’t free her arms. Yanking only proved to make her bonds bite into her wrists and ankles more.

Looking around frantically, Clarke realized that she’d been chained up with her back to the door. Ontari stood before her, again eyeing her up and down before frowning and drawing a knife.

Steeling herself, Clarke watched as the knife slid along near her hips, cutting first one side and then the other of her underwear. As the fabric fell away in the back, Ontari pulled on the front, collecting the panties in her hand before stuffing them in a pouch at her waist.

Clarke was biting the inside of her cheek hard to maintain calm, so hard she started tasting blood.

“No tears? No begging? That will come in time sky girl, don’t worry. In the meantime, we need to get you prepared.”

Drawing an even larger knife from her waist, Ontari moved forward, causing Clarke to jerk back.

“Hold still sky girl. No one here will braid your hair for you, and the Kwin will not permit it to get in the way of what’s to come. This will happen whether you hold still or not. Unless you want your ears and scalp cut to ribbons, I suggest you don’t move.”

Grabbing a fist-full of Clarke’s hair, she began. How it looked didn’t factor into anything Ontari was doing, Clarke realized. She’d pull a wad of hair to the side, or up, and simply slice through it, placing the hair in a pile. She did it over and over and over. Clarke was biting harder than ever on her cheek.

_’I will not cry. It’s just hair. I will not cry’_

Clarke realized that this served many purposes, not the least of which was to break her spirit, to dehumanize her. She wouldn’t let it work.

“Just a little off the top please.”

Ontari eyed her like she was either nuts or stupid. Turning to one of the guards, she gave him an order in Trig too fast for Clarke to understand. He left the room and was back in under two minutes. Handing scissors to Ontari, Clarke brilliantly solved the mystery of her order.

Continuing with those for several more minutes, the pile of hair grew and grew. From what Clarke could feel, she was being left with two or three inches on top, less on the sides and back.

Her task done, Ontari handed the scissors back and began to stuff the shorn hair into a bag before tying it off and handing it to the guard who immediately left again.

“We’re about to begin sky girl. I’m going to give you a gift before we start. You’ll hate it, until you figure out how helpful to you it was.”

Looking questioningly at Ontari, Clarke followed her with her eyes as she moved to the side. Unnoticed until now, Ontari picked up a large wooden bucket from near the wall, with two more next to it. It seemed to be full based on how Ontari braced it, carrying it behind Clarke. Nothing could’ve prepared her for the shock of perhaps ten gallons of icy water impacting with her back.

Crying out in shock, Clarke pulled at her restraints in reflex, trying to wrap her arms around herself as the cold instantly invaded her body, teeth chattering hard. Her entire back, the back of her head, her legs and feet were drenched.

Ontari moved back to the wall, collecting a second bucket. As Clarke took heaving breaths, she noticed the drain in the floor between her feet, the sound of water gurgling down it almost heard over her shivering. The second bucket took her breath away. Luckily her mouth was closed an instant before impact. Well, that’s one way to clean her off and get rid of the loose hair.

Out of her peripheral vision, she saw the guards on either side of the room now, having moved away from the doors before the tidal wave could hit them. They looked on, alert but impassive, and Clarke was glad that her wet naked body wasn’t drawing more attention from them. Looking up at Ontari, she could tell the girl didn’t mind the view.

“That’s better. Five days on a horse did not do your odor any favors.”

Clarke just stared at her, feeling hate well up inside at this people. Ontari saw the change in her eyes and smiled.

“Good, you will need that hate. Do not feel shame when you cry and beg in a moment, but know that this is just the beginning.”

_’Not ominous at all then, are you scary Azgeda girl?’_

Ontari walked around behind her, to the set of shelves that Clarke hadn’t seen when she’d been dragged in. Selecting her favorite of the choices, she moved back behind Clarke, standing about six feet away. She rotated her shoulders, getting warmed up.

It was the sound that alerted Clarke that something was coming. The sound of something slicing through the air. Still, she wasn’t prepared as the end of a whip collided with her still soaked back. A sound of shock escaped her as it did before she quickly clamped her mouth shut, the agony following a moment later. When the next brutal lash landed, this time on her shoulder, she only grunted.

The blows continued, one after another, never stopping or slowing. The pain seemed to build on itself, her nerves amplifying it. Ontari didn’t spare any part of Clarke’s body, the whip landing on her shoulders, back, legs, butt and arms in equal measure. As they continued, she broke out into a sweat all over her body, the salt irritating the whip marks as it dripped down.

Clarke continued to not make a sound.

_’The sky girl is tougher than she looks. Let’s see how she handles this.’_

Ontari must’ve been frustrated with the lack of reaction from Clarke, because she felt the pain get much worse with the next strike. She felt a new liquid join her sweat and realized that the whip must now be cutting her skin, her pain seeming to almost double. She felt dizzy and slightly faint, but she refused to give in to the agony wracking her body.

Then it stopped. Opening her eyes, not having realized that she’d closed them, Clarke looked to the side and saw Ontari walking around from behind her. Heaving a sigh of relief, she eyed the whip that Ontari carried with her. Ontari stepped up to her, almost nose to nose, before inhaling deeply.

“I love the smell of torture, don’t you sky girl?”

Deciding that it was rhetorical, she wondered what kind of a person got off on the smell of sweat and blood before looking at Ontari curiously. No sooner had the girl finished her question then she began taking paces backwards from Clarke. Horror registered a moment later when she realized why. After six paces backwards, Ontari uncoiled the whip and flexed her shoulders again. Clarke had just enough time to clamp her mouth shut before the whip struck on the soft flesh of her belly.

Clarke’s face turned beet red with the effort of remaining quiet. She quickly realized that she was truly fucked. Her front was ten, a hundred times more sensitive in places than her back was. This was proven a moment later when the whip sliced across her left breast, instantly causing a welt to rise. Clarke’s only defense was going to be making sure she’d exhaled fully before each blow, not allowing herself to have any air to use for screaming.

It went on and on. Stomach, chest, thighs, shins, arms. Ontari even scored a lucky hit that got within two inches of her pussy. Clarke’s face had turned purple in her attempt not to scream. She’d given up holding in the tears, running freely down her face to join the waterfall of sweat running down her body. Clarke felt like her whole body was one large, bloody wound.

Ontari had noticed Nia entering the room some time ago, just after she’d begun on Clarke’s front. Her Kwin was observing quietly, hunger in her eyes at the sight of the sweaty, bloody girl trembling in chains. Ontari knew it wasn’t sexual, not really. Her Kwin wanted the girl’s power, yearned for it in the way many would yearn for their lover. Her Kwin loved power, so that made sense.

After a particularly vicious blow across the darkened curls of the girl’s mound, Nia spoke.

“Enough. She grows too used to the pain. Time for something else.”

At her Kwin’s words, she quickly coiled the whip and placed it back on the shelf. Signaling to one of the guards, she had him move over a wooden bench with manacles affixed to the sides and the feet of one end. Setting it in front of the panting sky girl, the two guards moved to her ankles. Handing the key off between them, they released her legs before doing the same with her arms.

As Clarke nearly collapsed, they grabbed her by the arms and shoulders and dragged her to the bench, laying her down on her back, her head resting on a very narrow strip of wood. Despite her meager resistance, they easily secured her arms and ankles before moving back.

The bench was about three feet off the ground. Retrieving one of the empty buckets, she placed it beneath Clarke’s head and grabbed a leather strap from her waist.

Using the strap with a buckle on one end, she secured it around Clarke’s forehead, fastening her to the bench and preventing her head from moving. Looking around wildly, Clarke had no idea what was coming.

Ontari returned from the shelves with a piece of cloth, about six inches by twelve.

“Have you ever thought about drowning sky girl?”

Shivering, terror flooded Clarke’s mind. She’d read enough fiction and history on the Ark to have a good idea at what was coming. She knew it was a classic technique to break your captive. She also knew that it did so totally, and disturbingly quickly.

Ontari placed the cloth over Clarke’s face, ensuring her eyes, nose, and mouth were covered. As she moved to the third bucket still full of water, she motioned for the guards to move in on either side.

Clarke felt hands on her face, bracing her head to prevent her from moving even if the strap failed. They also both pressed on her jaw, forcing her mouth open and holding it that way.

Looking to her Kwin, Ontari waited for Nia’s nod before she started to slowly pour the water directly aimed at Clarke’s nose and mouth. The sputtering and coughing started instantly.

No one can tell you what waterboarding feels like beyond this: it felt like, it was, exactly like drowning. Your body, your mind, everything reacted the same way. The utter, inconsolable terror that you feel when you’re drowning was the same as well, only it didn’t stop. That was the beauty, the horror of it as a torture method. You never actually succeeded in drowning, so the terror never stopped.

Clarke yanked on her restraints, she thrashed, she bucked, but she didn’t get free. The water continued, bit by bit, feeling like gallons and gallons invading her body. She knew hardly any of it was really making it in through the cloth, but that didn’t stop her reactions.

The twinge she felt at the base of her skull ever since the whipping had gotten bad was still there, and if anything it was growing more pronounced. She tried to focus on it, to shut out the terror of what was happening to her and focus on that buzzing feeling. Her vision went from murky darkness to soft white in an instant, the terror leaving her mind just as quickly.

Ontari could see it, the moment the sky girl stopped resisting and gave herself over to the torture. Her body relaxed, and though the coughing and sputtering continued, she knew that was just to clear the water from her airways. She would never say such a thing, but Ontari was impressed with the sky girl. Her body was soft, but it seemed that her mind was much stronger.

Eyeing the activity around her as she continued pouring, several more buckets were brought in and set down by her, her Kwin obviously having ordered it on the way to the dungeon. The sky girl would need that strength of mind.

Despite losing herself in the strange feeling, Clarke still felt the passage of time. It felt like the torture went on for hours. In actuality, it was six. Six hours of being waterboarded. At the end of twenty minutes, Ontari had thought the sky girl would betray everyone she ever knew to get it to stop, but she’d lay there and taken it, hour after hour.

Pulling the cloth from her face, she was met with blue eyes staring right at her. Ontari felt like they were looking into her soul, a shiver racing up her spine.

“Take her to her cell.”

Still staring into those eyes, it took Ontari a moment to respond. “Yes, my Kwin.”

The guards removed the strap and her chains before hauling her to her feet. Clarke knew that without their grip, she’d have fallen immediately. They gripped her arms tightly and led her from the room, Ontari in the lead. Right before reaching the door, Nia spoke.

“Ontari, remain.”

Halting immediately, Ontari moved to one side and let them pass, fear briefly crossing her features.

“Tell me what you think of the sky girl.”

“My Kwin, she is weak. Her body lacks even the muscles of goufa.”

“Yes, but her mind, you admire her perseverance, don’t you Ontari?

“My.. my Kwin” came the stuttered response.

“Don’t fret Ontari. I have new orders for you. Every other day, she will be tortured. Every other day, she will be trained. She will fight for her survival just as all prisoners of Azgeda. You will torture her. You will also train her.”

Ontari swallowed harshly, knowing there was more coming.

“She will be placed in the observation cell. You will live in the other part of the room with her.”

Outrage and fear coursed through Ontari’s veins in equal measure.

“Yes, my Kwin.”

She bowed deeply as Nia swept from the room, cursing internally at her fate. Moving quickly, she caught up with the guards that were slowly dragging Clarke down the hallway towards the common cells.

“The Kwin has ordered the observation cell for her.”

As they changed directions, Clarke was doing no better at walking on her own. She wondered why the change in plans, and then realized that she had no idea what the original plan was anyway, so speculation was useless.

Arriving at another metal door, Ontari produced a key and unlocked it. Inside, Clarke saw that only a portion of the room appeared to be a jail cell. The rest of it was like living quarters, complete with a bed and kitchen area. Clarke’s cell was, well, a cell. It had a combined sink toilet thing that she’d seen in pictures of prisons from before the bombs. It also had a metal shelf with a pad on it for a bed. She was led to it and dumped on the bed before the cell door was slammed shut.

Ontari had a brief, whispered discussion with the guards. At first they seemed incredulous about whatever she was saying, but they both nodded and left.

“This is where we will both be living for the foreseeable future. You have finished a day of torture, and so tomorrow will begin your training. My Kwin knows that Wanheda will not present herself in so weak a vessel as you currently are. For that reason, and for others, you will be trained until that weakness leaves you.”

Voice rough from disuse and the millions of swallowed gallons of water, Clarke responded huskily “What other reasons?”

“Prisoners in Azgeda fight for their food, I believe is the expression in Gonasleng. There are a series of fights, one on one. The gona, captains, generals, and even Kwin Nia herself observe these contests. To lose is to die. To win is to live to fight another day and perhaps, someday, to be released. While there is no such hope for you, my Kwin has decided that you will fight once you are trained.”

“That doesn’t make any sense. If I’m supposed to be this legendary Commander of Death, why would Nia risk letting me get killed in a prison fight?”

“KWIN Nia knows, as does every follower of our beliefs, that if you are Wanheda, you will either win or, should you die, the spirit will move on to choose a more suitable host.”

Sighing, Clarke realized she wasn’t going to be able to logic her way out of these death matches.

“It was a nice try though.” Ontari said, smirking at Clarke.

Shaking her head, she laid back down, figuring the discussion was over. She was wrong. Barely loud enough to hear, Ontari continued.

“You were strong today sky girl. Continue to be strong. More is riding on your ascension then you could possibly imagine.”

As Clarke looked at her, Ontari turned away and began to remove her armor before there was a knock on the door. She went to it, opening it for the two guards that had left a few minutes prior. They brought in several trunks, setting them near the bed that Ontari would sleep in. As they left, another guard brought two meals to Ontari.

“Here sky girl. Today you were tortured for your dinner, tomorrow you will train for it. Eat well, you will need it.”

She handed Clarke the metal plate through a section of the cell door designed for it. Clarke took it and sat on her bed, eyeing it dubiously before looking at Ontari, who’d torn into the meal with gusto.

Using her hands, Clarke devoured the food, deciding that if they wanted to poison her, they wouldn’t need to hide it in her food. Finishing it quickly, she pushed the plate back through the opening in the door at the bottom before moving to the sink and washing her hands.

It struck her randomly that she was still naked, and she could feel the blush rising from her chest to her face as she dried her hands.

“Am I allowed to have clothes?”

Ontari, bent over to retrieve the plate, looked up at her. Clarke’s blush darkened at the look in Ontari’s gaze.

“If you insist sky girl.” 

Moving to a trunk, Ontari retrieved a roll of fabric, a shirt, and a pair of shorts. She handed them through the bars to Clarke who promptly turned to her bed, setting down the chest binding and shirt, quickly sliding the stretchy shorts on. Doing the same with the shirt, she forewent the binding, knowing she would be sleeping soon.

“My name is Clarke.”

“I know that sky girl.”

“Then why don’t you use it?”

Ontari sat down and appraised Clarke again, not answering for several seconds.

“Why would you want me to use your name when I tortured you for hours today?”

Sighing, Clarke wondered the same thing.

“I hate KWIN Nia for what is being done for me, and for what she’s done in the past. You, you’re following her orders, but you don’t look at me as if you’re relishing my pain, like you’re a sadist getting off on the torture. If it wasn’t you, it’d be someone else. Besides, being angry with you, blaming you, would be stupid. My life is literally going to be in your hands if you’re training me.”

Deciding to match honesty with the same, Ontari answered. 

“I think it would be easy to like you. Your looks, your strength, your charisma. I can’t afford that, not with what I must do to satisfy my Kwin’s orders.”

Not expecting an honest answer, she was shocked into silence. Recovering, she decided to respond in kind.

“You’re worried that if you like me as a person, you won’t be able to torture me effectively?”

“Yes, or to send you into solo gonplei every other day once you are trained. Being nice to you, knowing you personally, would compromise my duty. If I cannot effectively do my duty, I will likely be killed, and if not, replaced. Were that to happen, your fate would be no better, likely worse, and mine would definitely be worse.”

Who could argue with that?

“Still, I don’t think using my name will suddenly make you soft.”

“Perhaps not, Clarke.”

With a slight smile, Clarke sat down on her bed, pulling the folded up blanket to her and spreading it out.

“Get some sleep. While not as intentionally punishing, tomorrow will be far from easy for you. We must get you in shape if you want to survive the week.”

Nodding, Clarke decided that she agreed. Life may be about more than just survival, but it was a damned good place to start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are love, comments are life!


	5. Brick by Brick the Foundation is Laid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mythology is revealed and Clarke starts to train.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm doing my best to get a chapter out every day/night this weekend, including Monday. Here's another 6K words. HUGE shit is revealed in this chapter. Read slowly, digest it, and please comment.
> 
> This chapter, more than any other, is where this story takes a sharp turn into our AU and away from the really fucked up pseudo-science bullshit that the show gave us. This is where my suggestion to LR about actual religion, something believable with a basis in our world, takes root. We hope you like it.
> 
> Trigger Warning. Rape is mentioned at the end of the chapter. It will be preceded by some dashes and TW:R. If you want to skip it, do so.

Once Clarke’s head hit what passed for a pillow, she was out like a light. She dreamt, but it was unlike any dream Clarke had had before. White and warmth, the feeling of an embrace, the soft glow of peace and comfort and security. Love. She dreamt of being loved. There were no images in her dream until the last moment. She realized that she was dreaming about sleeping. Once she realized that, the feeling of her arms wrapped around another, of their arms wrapped around her, became clear. The press of a body clearly feminine filled her senses. As she forced her dream eyes open, her vision was filled with the most loving green eyes she’d ever seen, recognizing them instantly.

Her mind said ‘Lexa’, her dream mouth had it’s own answer as she smiled.

“Artemis”.

Whatever else might’ve happened in the dream was cut short when she abruptly woke to more pain than she’d ever experienced. Oddly, she thought there’d be more pain than this.

Trying to sit up, she immediately realized that it was a bad idea. Her noises of distress alerted Ontari, who told her to lie still and left the room. Returning several minutes later with another grounder in tow, she opened the cell and stood aside.

The woman was older than both Ontari and Clarke, had dark blonde hair, and surprisingly kind eyes.

“I am Elani, the fisa on duty assigned to your care. I will help you in any way I’m permitted. I must examine you.”

Nodding reluctantly, Clarke resigned herself to yet another person seeing her naked. She was supported carefully as she moved to sit up, though thanks to Ontari’s thorough aim, no spot on her back was free from whip marks.

Knowing what was coming and that it would hurt, Clarke braced herself as the healer gripped the hem of the shirt and pulled swiftly upwards, getting the shirt off in one go.

Taking rapid breaths through her teeth, she bore it without complaint. Looking down, the marks didn’t look horrible and she wondered why. They’d left them untreated the night before, there should definitely be more blood and bruising.

“These wounds appear a week old, yet I know you received them yesterday.” Elani commented, eyeing her front and back critically.

Humming to herself, Ontari spoke up “It is a good sign that Wanheda is with you. If you would heal this quickly from the start, your training will go much more rapidly than I’d hoped.”

“I am not permitted to give you a drink that would ease all of your pain at once, those are my orders from our Kwin. I can apply a paste that will help to soothe and heal the wounds individually.”

Nodding, Clarke let her get to work cleaning the wounds, none of which were open anymore, and applying the paste. She removed the shorts herself when the time came. The paste had a strong mint component, and it stung initially but immediately cooled and soothed, as promised.

As the healer finished, Ontari received two visitors. One had their breakfast, the other handed Ontari a bundle of cloth and leather, including boots. Clarke’s theory proved true when the bundle was laid out next to her. More underclothes as well as some leather outerwear, and of course boots. It was nothing fancy and, looking more closely, it appeared that it wasn’t armor per se, but probably something that allowed maximum flexibility, workout clothes.

Having finished, the healer stood and made her way to Ontari, leaving several jars of the paste with her. Clarke had no doubt that she’d be needing it, and not just for her present wounds.

Her breakfast consisted of a type of porridge with nuts added, she supposed it would be for protein. If she was going to build herself up, her body would need all she could get. Ontari’s serious gaze caught her attention.

“I am letting you use this for your meal. Do not do anything foolish, or today will easily be made another day of torture.” Extending her hand, Ontari handed her a wooden spoon.

Nodding, Clarke took it. What would she do with a spoon anyway? It’s not like she could whittle it down into a shank, not in ten minutes anyway.

Eating quickly, not realizing how hungry she was, she finished in five. Noticing this, Ontari made a mental note to increase the sky girl’s rations. She would not accept her own failure to get Clarke ready in time. Nia had set a very strict time table, and Clarke’s first match was only ten days away. That meant, barring Clarke acting out, they had five days to train her enough to live.

“We must get to work. Of the five usable days until your bout, we will spend three entirely on physical conditioning. The final two will be a mix of conditioning and training with a sword. Do not get your hopes up, we will use completely dull and blunt practice weapons. They will be metal to allow you to learn the weight.”

Nodding her understanding, Clarke decided that now was as good a time as any.

“The sword, is it the easiest to learn of the weapons then?”

“Hardly, but it is a good balance between the knife, which has speed but limited range, and a lance, which is slow but has reach. It should still allow speed, especially a short to medium blade rather than a longsword or greatsword, requiring two hands.”

Well, that made sense. Standing, Clarke dressed in her new clothing and took her bowl to the same spot by the door where Ontari had set hers. She also made a point of showing Ontari that she’d placed the spoon in her bowl as well, very dramatically, earning a smirk from Ontari.

As they left the quarters, Ontari in the lead, two guards fell into step behind Clarke, shadowing them but not speaking.

On the way, they passed the girl that had brought their food earlier, appearing to collect the bowls from her earlier deliveries. Ontari pulled her to the side a moment and had a whispered conversation, too low for Clarke to hear. The girl eyed Clarke speculatively, looking like she disagreed with whatever was being said, but another whisper from Ontari had her nodding. The next whisper, which sounded like ‘triple’, brought a look of outrage to the girl. Ontari merely looked her dead in the eye and the girl quickly agreed. That settled, they continued along the hallway, going back up the stairs from the dungeon.

“Do not get any ideas Clarke. We must go to one of the practice rooms where the guards train. The prisoners, for obvious reasons, are not given the same areas. If I am to succeed in my orders and you are to succeed in living, we must use everything we have to get you ready in time.”

Sighing, since she was indeed about to sprint in the other direction, Clarke agreed. They’d slip up, sooner or later, but trying to make a break for it with three people surrounding her, again, and a hallway with guards every twenty feet was just stupid.

“You know I can’t promise you that I won’t try to escape Ontari. It’s the first duty of every prisoner, escape. I will say that as long as you’re honest with me, I’ll try to return that honesty with my own.”

A look of surprise and begrudging respect appeared on Ontari’s features before she simply nodded and they continued on.

“I did not expect to like you, Clarke kom Skaikru. We had reports of what kind of leader you are from our people near the mountain.”

“Spies, you mean.” Clarke interjected.

“Sha, spies. They did say that you had honor, but they did not convey it beyond your actions in protecting your people. It is, surprising, to see a leader who does not lie for her own benefit.”

Clarke had to wonder if the two guards following them were trustworthy enough to overhear what Ontari was saying. Catching the look on Clarke’s face, Ontari guessed at her concern.

“I am loyal to my Kwin, and will follow her orders completely. That does not stop me from objectively seeing differences between her and others, like Roan. The men who guard you are Roan’s most trusted, as am I.”

“Roan, he’s Nia’s son, right?”

“Sha. He is the heir, was the heir to Nia’s throne. He is wise and wishes harmony with the other clans, not to be used as their doormat?” Receiving Clarke’s nod that she’d used the term correctly “He wishes Azgeda to be equals among the other clans, neither favored nor scorned without reason. Our Kwin would see us, would see herself, rule all others.”

Arriving at more double doors, Ontari ushered her inside. It was a large room, but much of the space was occupied by what Clarke could only describe as makeshift workout equipment. There were some pre-war free weights, some pull-up bars, it even had mats on the floors like she’d seen in the Ark gyms. There were some odd large balls to the side and what looked like jump ropes of all things coiled in the corner on a shelf. There were also many racks of practice weapons.

Staffs, swords, knives, maces, hammers, weapons she’d never seen before. Not even realizing she was moving, she approached one that looked like a blade at the end of a chain.

“That is an advanced weapon that you may learn should you survive long enough. It is pre-war, but my people have adapted it for hunting our version of pauna, as well as using it for a type of ice fishing where pikes aren’t available.”

Nodding, Clarke backed away, remembering that today was about her body, not weapons. She approached Ontari, who had handed-off her weapons to the guards and discarded the thicker pieces of her armor, now standing in the middle of the mats.

“There are specific exercises for the arms, the legs, the stomach muscles, the chest, shoulders, neck, and so on. We will do each of these in turn. Usually, it is more healthy to focus on only one of these at a time, arms one day, legs the next.”

Clarke nodded, having learned as much in her time reviewing the medical texts as a child.

“That, however, will not work for us. We must attack every part of your conditioning at once. It is not ideal, but with Wanheda’s favor, it should work.”

“Ontari, I just got done saying I’d be honest with you, so… I’m not sure what to make of your people’s beliefs. I mean, I respect that you all believe in the Spirits, but for me to be one of them? It’s just… if you knew my life, you’d understand my doubts.”

Smiling, Ontari was glad that Clarke had finally addressed what she knew the girl would be feeling. 

“That is fine Clarke. You were not raised to believe what we believe. To be told one day that you are the vessel… the reincarnation?” Clarke nods “of the most powerful warrior in our pantheon, and second most skilled tactician next to The Flame, it is a lot to accept.”

Letting out a gusty exhale, Clarke could only nod sharply.

“The signs all point to it.” Holding up a hand to stop Clarke’s question, she answered it instead. “Look at your rapid healing, despite your body lacking many resources to do so. Look at your victories in the face of crushing defeat. Even with as weak as your body was, you nearly succeeded in throwing me off of your back in that clearing. You were surviving and even thriving on your own, with no experience living ‘on the ground’ as you call it. Think of the panther.”

At this, Clarke’s head snapped up.

“Oh yes, you were being observed for some time Clarke. You fought off, by hand, a two-headed panther. You are touched by the spirits, there is no denying that. The mountain fell by your hand. The three hundred Trikru. The list goes on and on.”

“But that was just luck! I was doing anything I could to help my people survive.”

“And yet they had no reason to succeed. All things being equal, your people should have died, over and over. The one thing that has been constant in all of those situations was you Clarke.”

Clarke leaned in and whispered “If I tell you something, something that might matter, can you swear on your Spirits that Nia won’t know?”

Eyeing the sky girl, she weighed her choice. Nia had not ordered her to spy on Clarke, but she could order her to divulge anything of importance. On the other hand, if the Spirits were involved, didn’t she have a higher duty, even beyond Roan and her people?

Ontari nodded.

“I…” _’I can’t believe I’m saying this’_ “I’ve been having this feeling. In every one of those situations, at the base of my skull, this buzz, this… I don’t know, this other-ness starts building and building until I do something, like burning the three hundred, or killing all of the mountain men. Even when you were torturing me, the feeling returned. I focused on it and it got me through what was happening.”

Ontari stared, wide-eyed, her mouth slightly open. Nia had suspected, and Ontari had hoped, but this? This could be it, could be **real**.

“What else? Have there been visions?” There should have been visions.

“No…. well, not really.” Clarke temporized.

“What does that mean? What did you see?”

Clarke sighed heavily. In for a penny… “It was a dream, last night. I dreamed I was sleeping in someone’s arms, a woman. When I opened my eyes in the dream, I saw Lexa’s eyes.” Glancing away for a moment, she gathered her resolve “But the name I spoke in the dream, right before I woke up was different. I said Artemis.”

The shock on Ontari’s face transformed slowly to joy, and then to awe.

“The Flame. You saw The Flame and held her in your dream. It’s… it’s true, all of it.” Looking awed, and stunned, and far more emotional than Clarke had suspected that Ontari was capable of looking, it took Ontari a moment to collect herself.

“But Artemis, that’s… that’s the name of a Goddess from a long time ago, from the Greeks. They believed in a lot of Gods and Goddesses. We read about them in history.” 

Coming back to herself, Ontari nodded. “Yes, our beliefs did not start when the bombs fell. They are a continuation of what was believed long ago. Instead of focusing on the old leader of those Gods, Zeus?” At Clarke's confirming nods, she continued “Instead of him leading the pantheon, The Flame and The Light, Heda and Wanheda do.”

“Then, if Heda, The Flame, is Artemis… in the old religion, she was the Goddess of the hunt I think?”

“Yes, hunting, tactics, the forest and its animals, she is also a protector of women. In a world where technology was nearly lost to us, turning back to a Goddess of the wilderness seems rational.”

Clarke conceded the point, her mind racing with possibilities. If the Spirits were real, if Lexa really was the embodiment of a Goddess, one known for tactics and battle strategy, she could see how her head might’ve won out over her heart, might’ve led Lexa to choosing to save her people rather than to risk it all on the chance that Clarke might succeed.

“In our beliefs, Heda and Wanheda are joined, intertwined.” Ontari volunteered.

“Ma.. married?” Clarke swallowed nervously. Of course she was drawn to Lexa, felt so much for her, so much more than could be explained. But to be told that you’re destined to be with someone, even if it is the girl of your dreams, is equal parts joy and fear.

Nodding, Ontari continued. “Yes, and if you are truly Wanheda, which I believe you are, then that is your destiny Clarke kom Skaikru.”

Clarke said nothing. What was there to say? If she ended up with Lexa, married, by her side through all things, it would be a dream come true. She knew she’d fallen for her, knew that Lexa just got her in a way no one else ever had. Lexa saw her, saw the real Clarke, the protective, stubborn, loving, hardass she was inside. Why would she argue about ending up with that as a partner through everything? It would be a gift she’d treasure every day.

“What is Wanheda’s name?” Clarke asked nervously, afraid to hear the answer. What if the name was stupid? What if she was the reincarnation of a man? If she was the Commander of Death, would she be Hades, God of the Underworld? What about Ares? He was the God of War, though from what she remembered, he was the God of all the horrible parts of war, the depravity, the suffering, the needless killing. Ares was War for its’ own sake, not for a cause, not to defend, not for any higher purpose, just pure slaughter.

“Athena.”

At the sound of the word, Clarke’s eyes rolled back into her head and the world fell away. 

She was standing in a room of white marble with beautiful blue veining. The Greek architecture apparent everywhere from the columns to the materials used. Gold and marble and gorgeous accents on everything. She was standing before a mirror, and she approached it, seeing herself reflected in it.

What she saw was shocking to say the least.

It was Clarke’s face, but the body, oh the body. She was wearing only the equivalent of panties and a breast binding. Everywhere she looked, her calves, her thighs, her stomach, forearms, upper arms, shoulders, literally everywhere she was covered in muscle. The only fat she saw was on her still impressive chest. Taking stock of her perspective, using her artist's eye, she guessed that she was a couple of inches taller.

As she stared into her own eyes, she saw herself in them, the same soul, but more… an ageless wisdom, a confidence and power she’d seldom felt. Looking more closely, she also began to notice that, yes, she had an actual glow to her, as if a light was shining from out of her skin, or perhaps just behind her. Before she could turn to investigate, her eyes snapped to movement behind her. An arm snaked around her waist, pulling her into the body behind her. Clarke nearly sobbed as the face came into view over her shoulder, though slightly shorter. Lexa, her Lexa.

“Admiring yourself my love?” Lexa, Artemis said, amusement in her voice.

“I….” Clarke faltered, staring into those green eyes.

Artemis immediately turned Clarke towards her, taking her face between her hands and staring deeply into her eyes.

“It is you, the newest incarnation.” At these words, Artemis grinned, eyes shining with love.

“Do not be frightened Clarke.” At that, Clarke’s pulse skyrocketed.

“How did you know who I am?” she asked, confused how a Goddess standing in a room she’d never seen could possibly know her.

“Oh Clarke, I would know you anywhere my love. Artemis, The Flame, all names for one person, Lexa. I have known it was you since the moment you walked into my tent. I had hoped it was you from the moment I heard of the golden haired leader who fell from the sky, eyes as deep as oceans and heart as fierce as a pauna, though, I suppose, you were even more fierce than that, weren’t you my love?” Lexa smiled gently, still holding Clarke close.

“I know you have questions, and I know you are confused. You haven’t yet unlocked who and what you are. That will come in time. Trust what you experience as you move closer to embracing who you are. Trust the changes that are happening, and know that no one, not Nia, not Ontari, not Roan, will keep us apart. When you return to what you would call reality, you will have an advantage. You will remember what you have seen and heard. In order to ensure that things occur in their proper order and at their proper time, I will not.”

“Why? Why won’t you, won’t Lexa remember this? Don’t you want to know where I am? I’m a prisoner being tortured!”

“I understand Clarke, believe me I do. Your time in Azgeda is necessary. This is something you must experience, must endure in order to truly ascend to the pinnacle of your capabilities. I wish it weren’t so, that you could be spared the pain and suffering, but that is the means by which you will grow.”

Holding up her hand to stop Clarke’s obviously angry reaction, because who’d want to sign up for torture, Lexa continued.

“If events do not play out as they must, everyone you know, everyone you love, both of us, all of Azgeda, all of the Coalition, the Skaikru, all of it will be destroyed within five years.”

That more than any of the generalizations Lexa was giving her silenced her protests. Could she do it? Fuck it was painful, and terrifying, and she had to, didn't she? She wouldn’t let Lexa die, not ever, not with her last breath, no matter what she had to suffer to prevent it, even her own death.

Sighing, she grabbed Lexa by the back of her head and slammed their mouths together, kissing her passionately. When she had to draw back for breath, she rested her forehead against Lexa’s.

“I’ll do it. If it means saving you, I’ll do it, no matter how long it takes and how much blood it costs. Just promise me something?” At this, she opened her eyes and stared deeply into Lexa’s.

“Anything that’s within my power to give Clarke.”

“When we’re together again, when I’ve left Azgeda and we’re in Polis together…” Lexa nodded encouragingly for Clarke to continue “will you....” Clarke’s voice got softer, impossibly small “will you promise to never leave me again?” she finished, her lower lip trembling and tears gathering in her eyes before running freely down her face.

“Oh Clarke” Lexa grabs her tightly, bringing their mouths together again, kissing Clarke with all the love, all the conviction in any world. As she pulled back “Yes, we will never, ever be parted again my love. I swear it on The Fates.” Lexa reached up, wiping the tears from Clarke’s face, her eyes never leaving Clarke’s, trying to convey that this was a promise she would never, could never break no matter the cost, not again. Lexa would burn down the world before that happened.

“Thank you Lexa.” Clarke murmured, totally not sniffling because fuck you feelings.

“I am sorry, with everything that I am, I am sorry that I left you on the mountain Clarke. If I hadn’t, the Coalition would have fallen. Nia would have used my refusal of their offer as an excuse, and tens of thousands would have died. In this place, there are ways to see what could have been, the different choices we could have made. That would have been the outcome of my refusal.”

Nodding, Clarke knew she was telling the truth. In her time in solitude, she’d reasoned something very similar to what Lexa was saying even now. That did bring up a good point though.

“Lexa, Artemis? Where are we?” she said, looking around at the beauty of the room, obviously a bedroom, with what appeared to be a huge balcony over on the wall to the side.

“We are in our rooms, yours and mine, on Mount Olympus.” she replied, gauging Clarke’s reaction. Stunned disbelief by the looks of it. Taking Clarke’s hand, she led her to the balcony and, looking over it’s edge, Clarke could see everything. She could see the world below them, looking down from on high.

“Amazing. But, if you’re Artemis, and I’m Athena, why are we alive now?”

“We don’t have much time left Clarke, but I will try to answer as succinctly as I can. You are still standing in the training room with Ontari.”

Clarke nodded, gesturing for Lexa to spill.

Grinning, she did. “We are alive now because the world needs us, now. The Gods and Goddesses of old, well, some of us moved on to different realms. There are still traces of Zeus and Hera, but that is all that remains of them, traces, some in you, and some in me. There is another Goddess waiting to be awakened, just as you are experiencing right now.”

Clarke filed this away for later, allowing Lexa to continue. “But we have returned to help guide humanity in this last chance at survival. They loved us, worshiped us, for hundreds, thousands of years. As their beliefs changed, we were no longer needed, but through The Fates, we understood that a few of us would be needed again. I have been the most frequently reincarnated, moving from lifetime to lifetime to prepare for the almost end of the world.”

“You mean you were acting, preparing in advance, before the bombs fell?”

“Yes. Certain things were necessary in order to ensure we gave humanity the best chance for survival. A scientist, Becca had to be encouraged and financed in order to ensure that our ascension at this time, especially yours, was possible. It is not enough to simply ‘wake up’ to the Goddess that you are. There are physical things that must happen in order for us to fully manifest our strength, speed, and powers.” Again, she stopped Clarke from responding with a raised hand.

“That will come in time, and it’s not important right now. The point is, the human body can’t withstand us without help. The Nightblood serum, to replicate Ichor, the blood of the Gods, was needed. Becca developed it. That only gets the body halfway there, but you’ll learn the rest when it’s time. There was also the matter of technology. So much was lost in the war, but enough was retained that it would be a danger to our people unless we had those resources ourselves. My last host before the bombs insured that we had a base of operations that will aid us. Once the final Goddess ascends, this base will be restored and it’s capabilities will be crucial in the coming war.”

“This is a lot Lexa.”

“I know Clarke, and I know it’s confusing. Trust that you are on the path, the only path that will lead us and humanity to survival, and yes, more than survival as well.” At this, she smiled softly at Clarke, who mirrored it, remembering the words she spoke before Lexa kissed her for the first time. Well, the first time in this lifetime anyway.

“It is time. We won’t be able to communicate like this again until you return to me in Polis, but know that I love you Athena, Clarke. Be strong, as I know you are. We will meet again, always.”

Lexa kissed her, and as the feeling faded, Clarke returned to herself, standing in the training room. Her head was tilted back and her eyes closed. Opening them, she lowered her head and focused on Ontari, who was standing right in front of her.

“You had a vision, didn't you?” Ontari asked, caught between the distance she should be showing to a prisoner and the reverence for what had to be a moment of religious epiphany for a Goddess.

“Yes.”

Ontari forestalled any additional information by interrupting Clarke before she could speak.

“Do not share what you have learned, but did it confirm what we had discussed, about The Flame and The Light?” Of course Ontari wanted to know, but there was only so much trust she had in anyone but herself, Roan’s sworn guards or not.

“Yes, that and more.” Clarke replied, still trying to get her bearings.

“Good. That is good Clarke. Your vision lasted about five minutes, but we must get started. You have a long way to go, Goddess or not. We must get your body ready for the fight ahead.” Ontari would NOT let herself fail, not now. She knew this was the chance, her chance to ensure that Clarke defeated Nia, that Roan led Azgeda to honor and prosperity, following Heda and Wanheda to a new future.

Clarke nodded, and they got down to business. To say that it was backbreaking, gut destroying, body-wrecking work would be an understatement. Ontari drove her hard, forcing her well past any rational limits she might’ve had for herself. They started with upper body, and by lunchtime Clarke wasn’t sure if she could lift her arms enough to eat.

That was another surprise. Apparently ‘triple’ was really what she heard, and it was in reference to the amount of food Clarke was given, very high on protein. Eyeing it all dubiously, she thanked Ontari and set to work eating. After finishing it all and trying to avoid the monstrous burp that happened anyway, she thanked the girl again. Obviously her body needed it if she demolished it that quickly.

The afternoon was spent on legs, flexibility, and stamina. Using a jump rope had seemed like it would be fun, and it might’ve been had it not been for exercise. As it was, using it for almost two hours non-stop had taught her that she had a ways to go in terms of her cardio. She also threw up three times, but luckily, her lunch had already moved from her stomach and she retained it.

Making their way back to the quarters, Clarke was dragging ass. She’d never been more exhausted, but at the same time, her body also felt like it was happy in some weird way. It was like finally being pushed to your limits and knowing that you’d gone beyond them, learning what you were truly capable of. She had no doubt that what she was capable of would be changing a great deal as her time went on in Azgeda.

Arriving back, Ontari released the restraints from Clarke’s wrists and, in a moment of compassion, decided to forego the buckets of icy water to cleanse Clarke, who was absolutely drenched with sweat.

“I am going to allow you to use my bathroom. I will stand in the room while you use it to ensure that nothing happens. It’s either this, or the type of shower you got yesterday.” Ontari said, waiting for Clarke to decide. She didn’t have to wait long.

Holding up her hands with wide eyes, Clarke replied “No! No, a normal bathroom would be great, thank you Ontari.”

Nodding, Ontari grabbed a change of underclothes for Clarke, as well as a towel. Moving to the bathroom door, she unlocked it and opened it, standing to one side for Clarke to enter first.

As Clarke cleared the threshold, her mouth dropped open. _'FUCK YES A BATHTUB!!!'_

Seeing Clarke’s face light up, Ontari got a certain wicked pleasure from bursting that bubble. “We do not have time for you to take a bath, perhaps another time.”

Clarke’s joy was immediately replaced with a pout, causing Ontari to actually chuckle. Clarke grinned, glad that her antics had finally cracked Ontari’s armor.

“A shower will have to do. The good news is that if things are working properly, you might actually get warm water out of the tap. Don’t get too excited, it breaks quite often, or it is all used up very quickly. Go ahead and try.”

Turning to the taps, Clarke quickly turned them on. They were the same as on the Ark, so no real mystery there. After a few moments, she stuck her hand under the water to test it. As Ontari said, it wasn’t truly hot, but it was on the warm side. Deciding not to waste another drop, she quickly pulled off her clothes. Quickly was a relative term when your arms and legs felt like they’d already fallen off. 

Scrambling into the top, she twisted the knob to switch it to shower and pulled the curtain. Ontari stopped her with a few inches to go, but Clarke would take what she could get.

“The first dish is for cleansing hair. The second is for after the hair is rinsed. Add it and let it sit in the hair until you are ready to exit, then rinse it out. The third dish is soap for the body. There is a cloth to the side that you can use, I have a spare for myself.”

Humming in pure bliss, Clarke thanked her and quickly got to work. If she was being given this gift, she at least wanted to try to hurry to allow Ontari some hot water. Scrubbing hard, she didn’t allow herself the time to be gentle with her still healing whip marks, deciding that any damage done would be made up for with the fact that she was clean. Finishing with her top, she moved on to her legs.

Ontari watched from outside the shower, not minding the view at all. She’d had both male and female lovers before, preferring neither over the other. Clarke was beautiful, yes, but that was not a boundary she would cross. The Flame would surely decapitate anyone for taking liberties. That didn’t mean she couldn’t look, and was in fact required to, Clarke being her prisoner after all. Making a snap decision, she spoke up once Clarke had finished washing her legs.

“I cannot give you the tool we use to wash our backs since it has a long handle and could be used as a weapon. If you’re agreeable, hand me the cloth and I will wash your back. I will not take liberties, and do not care if you refuse. I will not take it as a slight, but your back wounds might do better clean.”

Sighing, Clarke could see her point. Besides, she’d spent the better part of the day yesterday naked around Ontari, so it’s not like there were any secrets left. Handing Ontari the soapy cloth, Clarke’s trust was rewarded when Ontari simply scrubbed her back, no more and no less. Once finished, she handed the cloth back to Clarke, placing her hand in the stream of water to wash the soap off, and drying it on her own towel.

As Clarke finished, she rinsed the conditioner from her very short hair, wondering not for the first time what it looked like. Turning off the water, she accepted the towel from Ontari and made short work drying herself.

“Stand up for a moment.”

Looking at Ontari curiously, she did as instructed.

“Move the towel to the side.”

Doing so, she blushed slightly, her body now on display.

“Your wounds are much better, and though I might be imagining it, your body already appears slightly different, slightly more slim and athletic. Amazing.” she muttered the last part to herself.

Not having access to a full length mirror, Clarke couldn’t confirm or deny what Ontari was saying. She did feel good despite her exhaustion.

“Do you have a mirror, or something shiny? I’m pretty curious about my hair, or what’s left of it.” Clarke asked, smirking ruefully.

Ontari nodded, motioning for Clarke to finish drying. Handing her the new underclothes, Clarke dressed and moved out of the bathroom, watching as Ontari moved to one of her trunks, rifling inside of it.

Coming out with a small hand mirror, roughly four inches square with a handle, she handed it to Clarke, explaining “I use it for my war paint.”

Clarke nodded, thanking her. Bracing herself, she raised the mirror and looked. And looked. And turned her head. And looked.

Well, all things considered, it actually wasn’t bad at all. Ontari obviously had some experience cutting hair, because it wasn’t lopsided, or choppy, and there were no stray gobs of hair that’d been missed. It was just different. Different and SHORT. Using her fingers, she felt the sides, now only about half an inch long, all the way around. Feeling the top, it was still several inches long, allowing it to be styled. All in all, she actually thought it looked badass.

She’d seen similar haircuts on the Ark, usually on women who were in the guard or other hands-on professions, preferring to keep hair out of the way. All things considered, Clarke thought it made her look fierce.

Handing the mirror back, “Thank you. It looks, well, surprisingly good. I never thought of having short hair before, but I can really see how it’ll be beneficial, especially in fights. It’s certainly much easier to take care of now. Thanks for not making it look like shit.”

Smirking, Ontari replied “You are welcome, Clarke. Do not worry, it will grow back in time.” As she finished speaking, a knock sounded on the door. The serving girl was outside and stared at Clarke passed Ontari’s shoulder as the door was opened. Gesturing to Clarke to enter the cell, Clarke nodded and did so, the door to her cell closing behind her. Once locked, the serving girl brought in their meals, all four of them.

After she left, Clarke ate in silence, reflecting on what she’s learned today, about herself, and Lexa, and the Goddesses that they apparently were. About the world around them, and what this was all leading up to, some kind of war that could wipe out all of the grounders completely. She thought about Lexa, about how much she loved her, needed her, wanted her. She resigned herself to whatever she had to do in order to meet destiny head on. Resolved, she took her last bite, finishing off all three meals with no trouble.

“Tomorrow you will likely be caned for hours. Knife play and drowning repeatedly are also likely.” Ontari said it casually, like it was another day at the office. No, not casually Clarke corrected, matter of factly, as if it was an immutable, unchangeable reality. She supposed that it was.

\------------TW:R

“If the Kwin does not see the suffering that she expects, know that she is not above using rape as a means of torture, and has specifically said that it is a possibility for you.”

_'Fuck. Humanity had better fucking appreciate this shit. If I get raped, I'm tripling the amount of suffering that cunt Nia gets before I kill her.'_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment! We love to hear from our readers!


	6. Time Flies When You're Killing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke's continuing adventures in Azgeda. Clarke continues to grow, and Ontari continues to become human. Nia's full of surprises.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another 5,803 words for you. Third update in a row. We hope you enjoy. Please remember to comment and thanks for reading folks!

To say that the past month had been a bitch would be both an understatement and an insult to bitches. Clarke had trained, and suffered, and trained, and suffered. After her intensive training period had ended, Nia hadn’t batted an eyelash at sending Clarke into fights to the death.

 

The arena in which they fought was actually more impressive than Clarke had imagined. To be honest, Clarke had imagined some very large, shitty basement or maybe just a cleared-off area in the snowy wastes that comprised most of Azgeda. What she got instead was an actual coliseum. Oh, it wasn’t as large or as grand as the ones she’d seen pictures of in Rome, but it wasn’t tiny either.

 

If she had to guess, and with her mind, yes, she had to guess, she’d say it was most likely the stadium of some minor league sports team from before the bombs, probably soccer. She’s certainly seen enough pre-recorded soccer matches with her dad and that fucking Judas Jaha to recognize a smaller stadium when she saw it. Hell, there was even the faint picture of a viking, complete with a two-horned helmet, blonde beard, and a green outline next to the entrance that she assumed was for the home team.

 

 

Of course it was rundown. The cement that she could see was crumbling, but intact. Like the mascot, there were still faint traces of paint here and there, though the mascot seemed to have survived the best. Probably because it got the best paint and the most layers. The seats were alright, the fighter cages were rusty, wet, and horrible, but it did allow Nia to pack in thousands of her people to watch the spectacle.

 

Clarke knew that her success so far could be attributed to three things; Athena, since she healed from cuts and scrapes faster than usual, though not by as much as when tortured, luck, for surely she had her fair share of that and then some, and to her opponents. It seemed that even though Nia had no problem with putting Clarke in death matches, she was still hedging her bets. All of the men and women she’d faced so far had been in rough shape, either from starvation, prolonged captivity, or previous wounds which gave Clarke the advantage. Her first fight had been against a one-armed man, and even that she barely won. Clarke never forgot after that moment that despite the way they looked, each and every one of her opponents was raised from an early age to be a warrior, or at least to defend themselves. Clarke didn’t have that luxury.

 

Speaking of luxuries, Clarke was busy enjoying one of the only luxuries her current situation afforded her, a bath. It had taken just over two weeks before Ontari had caved, under constant but non-annoying pressure from Clarke. Ontari wasn’t even sitting in the bathroom anymore. Part of it was trust in herself, since Ontari had locked the outer door to their quarters and had the only key on her. Another part of it was that Ontari had removed anything in the bathroom that could remotely be used as a weapon. The final part was a fledgling trust in Clarke. Besides the first day, Clarke had yet to try another attempt to escape. That wasn’t to say that she didn’t want to, but she quickly realized that she needed far more information before any escape would be realistic. After all, she had no real clothing, or weapons, or food, or even any real idea of where she was beyond five hard day’s ride from where she’d been.

 

It was for that reason, her inescapable separation from Lexa, and her ever-increasing level of stress, that Clarke was also enjoying her actual favorite luxury while taking her bath, thinking of Lexa with two fingers buried knuckle deep inside herself. She had no illusions that Ontari didn’t know what she was doing. A trained warrior could tell the difference between water splashing because you were washing yourself and water splashing because you were driving your digits deep into your aching pussy. They simply never discussed it and pretended it never happened.

 

Refocusing her thoughts, she brought to mind one of her favorite memories of Lexa, the moment of their first and sadly only kiss to date. Remembering Lexa’s lips in perfect detail, soft yet firm, smooth yet slightly chapped. She increased her pace, feeling her own wetness coating her fingers. The feel of Lexa’s hands as she gripped around Clarke’s middle, and Clarke’s around Lexa, each of them pulling the other closer. The delicious pressure of their breasts pressing together. Clarke used her thumb to start stroking her firm and aching clit, parting her legs as wide as she could.

 

The velvet smoothness of Lexa’s tongue in Clarke’s mouth, the taste of her as their tongues slid together. She drove her fingers in feverishly, clamping her mouth shut to prevent her moans or heavy breathing from carrying. The feeling of Lexa’s amazing neck and jaw under her fingertips as she brought her hand up to cup Lexa’s head, holding her close. Clarke started curling her fingers, reaching for her g-spot along her front wall, knowing she was close. She reached up and pinched her left nipple, then twisting, moaning despite her attempts to stay quiet.

 

It was the look of love and wonder in Lexa’s beautiful green eyes that pushed her over the edge, feeling her juices flowing down her fingers and over her palm as she kept going, riding out her orgasm with only the image, the feel, the taste of Lexa occupying her senses.

 

Quickly trying to get her breathing under control, she took a good thirty seconds to calm down before she pulled the stopper on the tub to let it drain, grabbing her towel from beside the tub. Drying quickly, she ran her hand through her freshly-shorn hair, glad that Ontari had agreed to a touch-up. The hair around her ears had started to tickle, and a distraction was the last thing she needed in a fight.

 

Dressing quickly in one of the two pairs of underclothes that she was allotted, she moved from the bathroom into the main room of their quarters. Clarke preferred to think of them that way rather than Ontari’s quarters and her cell. She had no illusions about being a prisoner, but Ontari tended to only lock the cell door when deliveries were made or when Clarke went to sleep.

 

Looking over at Ontari to gauge her reaction and determine how loud she’d really been, she noted Ontari looking away from her. On closer inspection, Ontari’s chest and face were flushed, a light sheen of sweat covering her. Looking at her hands, Clarke easily saw that three fingers on her dominant hand appeared far more damp than the rest. Smirking to herself, she moved to her own bed, knowing that their food would arrive shortly.

 

No sooner had she sat down then the knock came. Knowing the routine by now, Clarke was the one to get up and pull her cell door closed, the click of it locking automatically reverberating clearly off the walls. Sitting back on her bed, she waited patiently for the girl to deliver the food and go.

 

Once the food was placed on the small table in their quarters, Ontari approached the cell. This was another change to the routine that had developed over time. Ontari unlocked the cell and let Clarke out to eat at the table, handing her the utensil once she sat down. Nodding her thanks, Clarke immediately focused on her food, not sure if she maintained any manners at all as she inhaled it. For all she knew, she looked like a starving pauna set upon a plump deer. Idly, she realized that it was precisely that, deer, that she was eating.

 

True to form, Ontari spoke up, keeping the tradition of letting Clarke know what to expect for the next day.

 

“You will fight tomorrow.” No expression, no elaboration, that was all Ontari said. That didn’t stop Clarke’s head from snapping up to stare at her above her meal.

 

“What do you mean? I trained today.” Training was always followed by torture, it was like a constant this last month, not varying once.

 

“The Kwin grows tired of waiting for progress. Your opponent tomorrow will be unlike the weak, the wounded you have fought so far. Tomorrow, you will face a natrona newly imprisoned, not yet worn down by time in the dungeon. Not only that, but it will be a gona, not a fisa or a ticha or even a scout.”

 

Swallowing hard, Clarke nodded her understanding.

 

“That was why you trained me so hard today, practicing the sword and my speed so much.”

 

“Sha Clarke. This will be your biggest test yet. To fight a gona, a healthy gona, using nothing but our weapons, not tek. Have you ever done so before?”

 

“Without surprise or a distraction? No, not without a gun.” Clarke thought furiously, worried for her chances.

 

“You have trained hard in this month. Because of Wanheda’s help in healing, and your body’s quick adaptation to your conditioning, you have achieved in one month what would have usually taken four. We can only hope that it will be enough.”

 

Nodding, because what the hell else could she do, Clarke went back to eating, trying to find her appetite after that lovely news.

 

“The match is not until noon. We will wake and train in the morning. Just as I started to do this afternoon, I will train you in additional sword movements that the gona will not be familiar with. This should help even the odds even more.” Ontari said confidently. She didn’t like Clarke’s chances, but surely Wanheda had to count for something beyond building muscles and faster healing. They must have faith in her.

 

“Thank you Ontari. I know without your lessons I’d have already died in these fights, Wanheda or no Wanheda.” Clarke said, trying to show in her eyes and tone exactly how sincere she was with Ontari.

 

“You are welcome, Clarke.”

 

Finishing her meals, Clarke decided that she needed as much rest as possible for tomorrow. If this warrior was her biggest challenge to date, she wasn’t going into this unrested.

 

Laying down and closing her eyes, Clarke immediately found herself in the warm light that she’d experienced whenever her pain became too great. Here, she could rest, she could let go, she could be at peace.

 

The next moment, Ontari was shaking her shoulder.

 

“It is time to wake Clarke. Are you alright? You did not stir when I called you several times.” Ontari said, looking down with more curiosity than concern.

 

“Hmm? Yeah, I”m fine. Before you ask, it wasn’t a vision. Just a place I go to when Nia’s getting her kicks from my pain and it gets to be too much.”

 

Deducing what Clarke meant, Ontari nodded and left the cell, retrieving clothes for Clarke’s morning exercise. Her battle clothing would be found at The Raid, the combat arena.

 

It made sense that Clarke might be worried about today. Wanheda had obviously worked to ensure she had sleep. Handing the clothes to Clarke, Ontari moved to the bathroom to complete her morning routine. Once done, she and Clarke traded places while Ontari braided her own hair. She’d been showing Clarke how to do it, but this morning was not the morning for such things.

 

As Clarke exited the bathroom, the usual knock on the door sounded. Clarke immediately did her thing while Ontari let the girl in. That routine complete, she and Clarke sat down to consume a breakfast that was even more fortified with protein and carbs than usual. Ontari would leave no advantage overlooked.

 

Neither said anything as they ate, Clarke’s mind on the fight ahead, and Ontari’s mind on Clarke. She had faith that Clarke would win somehow. She had not learned what natrona had been selected, but any would be formidable. Azgeda gona were not weak, and if they were, Nia wouldn’t have picked them for this, not anymore. She was too giddy, too hungry for her to have given Clarke the usual challenge. No, this match would be twice as difficult as the others, if only for the fact that her opponent would likely be in their prime.

 

Coming out of her thoughts, she focused on Clarke, who was staring at her. Noticing that she’d finished the considerable amount of food, she nodded and stood, neither speaking. Placing their dishes in the correct spot, Clarke again, as always, emphasizing the placement of her spoon on the top dish, Ontari had no choice but to smirk at her. Clarke had to win, she would see to it.

 

Leaving their quarters, two guards falling in behind them, Ontari took the usual path to the training room. There seemed to be extra activity in the keep that morning. Servants were rushing to and fro, an energy in their steps that was usually lacking. Obviously news of Clarke’s battle had spread and the people were eager to see her face a more difficult challenge. She considered for the first time what others must think, hearing that this sky girl could be Wanheda. Were they hoping that she was, eager to place their faith in a Goddess who could free them from Nia’s reign? As time went on, Ontari found that prospect not only more favorable, but also, she hoped, more likely.

 

Entering the practice room, she put those thoughts aside the best she could. Moving immediately to the weapon’s rack, she took a sword of medium length for each of them while Clarke began stretches. That was one advantage of being a nightblood, Ontari supposed, no need to worry about a pulled muscle. Arms, shoulders, hips, knees, hamstrings, she ensured that Clarke completed each of the stretches. They could not afford an injury so close to the match.

 

Nodding once Clarke had finished, she began her usual pre-lesson lecture.

 

“As I said last night, we will continue with what we began yesterday. Some may call what I am teaching you dirty tricks. In a fight, there is no such thing. I will teach you everything that I have time to impart before your match. It will include both sword styles that are not taught in Azgeda, as well as these so called dirty tricks. In the fight ahead, both could mean the difference between victory and death.”

 

“I understand”, and she did. There was a time for battles with uptight rules, though she hadn’t really seen any since she got to the ground. Then there was the type of fighting that Clarke was familiar with. Doing everything you had to do, everything you could possible do and then some, in order to survive. That’s what today’s fight would be. She wasn’t happy to give Nia what she wanted by winning, but that was a small price to pay in comparison to surviving another day, being that one step closer to escape, to Lexa.

 

Ontari could see it in her eyes that Clarke understood. She just wished she could erase the fear that she also saw there. Fear had no place in a fight, it simply paralyzed you, or slowed you, or made you guard when you should attack. She’d have to work it out of her this morning along with the lesson. She wouldn’t send Clarke into that arena with such a handicap. The gona wouldn’t be afraid, whether he believed Clarke to be Wanheda or not. Either the gona lived or died. If they lived, they brought a swift end to a false Goddess. If they died, it was at the hands of the Commander of Death. For someone labeled a traitor, there was no greater way to leave this world.

 

Decided that enough thinking had been done, that it was time for doing, she handed Clarke the sword, hilt first of course. Clarke’s reaction was instantaneous. Sword clutched tightly in her hand, she dropped to her knees like a boulder from a cliff, head tilted back and eyes rolling up in her head until her eyelids closed. Holding out a hand to forestall the guards, she moved closer.

 

She would not shake Clarke, would not touch her, just as she hadn’t before. She had faith in The Flame and The Light, but she prayed that whatever was happening was beneficial to Clarke. They didn’t have a moment to spare in her training.

 

Deciding that hovering over a Goddess was rude, she sat with her legs folded in front of her, leaving a few feet between herself and Clarke. The girl was holding a sword in her grip after all. If this vision was violent, Ontari didn’t want to have to rely on her reflexes to save her from an instinctual swing on Clarke’s part.

 

Settling herself, she draped her own practice sword across her knees and decided to use this time to observe Clarke. She could see her eyes fluttering, or perhaps that was their continued attempt to roll back in her head.

 

She waited, watching as muscles in Clarke's arms, legs, hands and neck tensed, seemingly at random. She watched as Clarke’s breath became labored and a sheen of sweat broke out across her body.

 

She waited, hoping that she wasn’t watching the last hours of Clarke’s life pass by in a trance rather than with Ontari packing everything she could into the short time they had left.

 

An hour passed, and Ontari watched. As she did, Clarke’s perspiring only increased, the mat under her beginning to pool in low spots. She had one of the two guards bring over a large cup of water, setting it beside herself for when Clarke woke.

 

Tilting her head to the side as an animal would in curiosity, Ontari wondered if her eyes were playing tricks on her. Clarke’s body had become somewhat more athletic in the month that she’d been training, but as Ontari watched, she could swear that even Clarke’s facial features, not fat but having a certain pudginess to them that only the soft carried, began to thin.

 

Tilting her head the other way, she looked down to Clarke’s body, where her chest continued to move with her labored breathing. Her exercise clothing covered much of her body, designed to force her to sweat. Ontari had wanted to work off the water weight that the girl carried and bring her to a more trim state, sweating it out of her was a major help in that area. Unable to confirm her suspicion, still not wanting to touch Clarke in order to untie or remove the light but long sleeved top, she resigned herself to wait.

 

A second hour passed, and Ontari was now sure of her observations, at least in terms of Clarke’s face, though those changes seemed to have stopped. Ontari expanded her gaze, eyes coming to rest on Clarke’s hands. Here too Ontari could see a difference. She couldn’t observe her palms since Clarke’s main hand gripped the sword and her off hand was in a fist, but the fingers, the back of the hands, both appeared to have gained muscle where little had been before, even after their training. Clarke’s grip was something Ontari was always working to strengthen, worried about her ability to hold the weapon during a strong parry or block. Throughout this time, Clarke had kept both hands closed tightly, knuckles standing out white in stark relief.

 

A third hour passed, and now Ontari’s concern moved to, well, grave concern, because worry would not help. Clarke looked like she’s spent ten days in a steam bath. She signaled one of the guards to fetch two more buckets of water to join the two already off to the side for drinking or dowsing one’s self after training.

 

As the fourth hour came and went, Ontari resigned herself to having to wake Clarke soon. Their meals would arrive, and immediately after, they would have to leave for the arena. Judging by the height of a candle designed for just such a purpose, she realized that they had fifteen minutes at most until the food came. She would regret interfering with the Spirits, but she knew that they’d both pay the price for Clarke arriving late.

 

No sooner had the thought finished in Ontari’s mind than Clarke’s head dropped, her chin resting on her chest. As Ontari watched, a path of tears flowed from both of Clarke’s closed eyes down her sweaty face. In a voice that sounded like it hadn’t been used in a thousand years, Clarke spoke.

 

“Water please.”

 

Not hesitating, Ontari handed her the tall cup that was beside her, one of the guards bringing an entire bucket on his own a moment later, setting it beside them before moving back to the door.

 

Clarke took drink after drink, perhaps ten in all, before she stopped. As Clarke stood, Ontari quickly followed, steading the girl as she swayed in place.

 

“Easy Clarke. You have been still but taut like a drawn bow for over four hours.”

 

Clarke nodded, saying nothing. Instead, she moved over to where the extra buckets sat, directly next to a floor drain. Clarke lifted on the the buckets and immediately turned it over above her head, the waterfall pouring down over her in one go, taking four hours of sweat with it.

 

Sighing, Clarke put the bucket down and walked back to stand in front of Ontari. Looking into Clarke’s eyes, she could see something there that she didn’t before, confidence. The fear was gone.

 

“What did you see Clarke?” she whispered, not wanting to intrude nor miss this opportunity to simply know.

 

“So, so much. I saw, I felt, I acted. Every time Athena held a sword in combat, every memory of it, every movement, every battle, every war. Every life she took with it, I took with it.” Rubbing her face, Clarke stopped talking and just took a moment to let things settle in her brain. It was so very too much, and at the same time, she knew that there was such a vast amount more that was missing.

 

“Wanheda has taught you what I could not, what no one could.” Ontari tried to imagine the enormity of what had just happened before realising she simply couldn’t, no one could except one of the Spirits. She knew that they’d existed for thousands of years. In those lifetimes, how many days, weeks, years did the Commander of Death, the Goddess of War, hold a sword? Perhaps more years than Ontari would spend on Earth.

 

The girl arrived a moment later with their meals. Before she could turn and go, Ontari spoke.

 

“Bring two more meals for Wanheda, the same as I bade you to bring this morning.”

 

Partly in anger, partly in fear, the girl turned towards Ontari “You know what Kwin Nia will do if she finds out! You cannot protect me from her wrath if you yourself are chained beside me!”

 

“For the sake of the Spirits you will do as I say Craya, now.” Ontari’s tone and her look left no room for argument. Clarke would have spoken up, said something, declined or something, but fuck she was hungry. While this discussion went on, Clarke took one of the meals from the table near the door and started eating. Sighing, Craya left without another word.

 

“Just by watching you for those hours, I know you have expended much of your energy Clarke. You need it back before the match. I am not sure if you will be first today. Nia might have decided to leave you as the main event given the circumstances. If so, the food will certainly have time to settle. If not, purge it before you are called from the tunnel to the arena and fight without the heavy stomach.”

 

While disgusting, Clarke could see the practicality of it. Take what you could from the food and remove it as a burden before the fight if you had to. She definitely didn’t want to go into this bloated with what, **five meals?!** She hadn’t done the math until now. Would Lexa still like her if she’s fat?

 

Who was she kidding. Lexa would probably take her in the body of a pauna. Quickly banishing that thought before it hit her stomach, she continued eating. By the time Craya had returned with the additional two meals, Ontari had finished eating, and so had Clarke, much to the girl’s astonishment.

 

“Thank you Craya” Clarke said, looking the girl in the eye and conveying her gratitude. The girl started to bow, the blushed, then immediately turned tail and left the room at a run, the door slamming behind her.

 

“Something I said?” Clarke asked, the wide-eyed look of disbelief on her face as she gazed at Ontari.

 

Smirking, she answered “No, but she is young and very much devoted to the Spirits. You spoke to her, that was all that was needed, especially once she almost bowed to you as she would have to the Kwin.”

 

Nodding, Clarke could see where that’d be mortifying to a girl Craya’s age, perhaps fourteen or fifteen. Clarke instantly felt a pang of loss for Charlotte, wondering what would’ve become of her sis as she grew up. She suddenly realized that, as Wanheda, she might be able to see Charlotte at some point. Wracking her brain for the name, it took a surprisingly short time before it surfaced, the Elysian Fields. That is where the noble, the honorable, the innocent and the pure went to spend the afterlife. Clarke had no doubt that Charlotte, among many others, would be there.

 

Finishing the last two meals at a slightly more human pace, Clarke set the dishes aside. Ontari glanced at the candle, thinking carefully.

 

“We have perhaps ten minutes until we must leave if we walk quickly to the arena. It would ease my mind if we could spend that time, even those ten minutes, seeing if Wanheda’s lessons have helped.”

 

Deciding that she’d much rather practice one last time, she walked over to the sword that she’d left on the mat in the center of the room. Part of her was in disbelief that she knew what she knew. The other ninety-five percent of her simply knew.

 

Taking up a ready position that she’d used for thousands of years and never used before, she faced Ontari.

 

Ontari spotted the difference immediately. She knew it was a ready position, that was obvious, but it wasn’t one she’d taught Clarke. It wasn’t even one she knew. Skipping the bullshit, she charged.

 

Clarke didn’t flinch, didn’t react, not until Ontari was within range. Bringing her sword around, she easily parried Ontari’s swing. Dodging the next swipe by shifting her weight from one leg to the other, she swatted Ontari across the ribs and belly with the flat of her blade.

 

Ontari stood still, looking at Clarke with wide eyes. She hadn’t been bested in combat since she was fifteen, and never in three Spirits-damned moves.

 

“I wasn’t ready.” She said, trying not to sound petulant. She sounded petulant.

 

“By all means. Just let me know when you’re ready.” Clarke said, trying very hard not to smirk. She totally smirked.

 

Narrowing her eyes, Ontari decided to step up her game. Their next back and forth lasted much longer. After ninety seconds, Ontari was on her back and her sword was lodged in the ceiling directly above her.

 

Reaching down, Clarke offered her a hand, lifting her off the mat. It took both of them to dislodge the practice sword.

 

“Our time is up. Focus on what you have learned from Wanheda and you should prevail.”

 

Nodding, Clarke returned their weapons to the rack. She felt good, confident. If Ontari wasn’t bullshitting her, then she stood a good chance.

 

Leaving the training room, the ever present guards in tow, they headed for The Raid arena. Four more guards joined them the moment that left the keep, falling into step ahead and to their sides, the original two still behind.

 

Even getting within blocks of the arena, the sound was thunderous. Clarke had no illusions that the noise was for anything but her. Whether it was to cheer her to success or to go wild at the sight of her head mounted on a pike, the people were definitely interested in seeing this.

 

They passed through the gates reserved for combatants, Ontari escorting her as far as the cage she would be put it until it was her turn. Stepping through the door made of rusty bars, Clarke found her armor, such as it was, waiting for her. That and the boots were a simple affair of leather, not a lot of coverage and not very sturdy, but it was better than nothing, and better than exercise clothes.

 

Undressing quickly, she could tell by the voice of the announcer, amplified with a comically large hollow cone, that things were about to start.

 

Ontari was looking around at the other cages, wondering which of these prisoners would face Clarke. Some seemed to be new enough to qualify, but none stood out. Returning her gaze to Clarke as she finished with the exercise clothes and reached for her armor, Ontari eyes widened and she exclaimed..

 

“Spirits!”

 

Looking around bewildered, clutching the armor in her hands, Clarke looked at Ontari, whose gaze was locked on Clarke. Well, Clarke’s body. Looking down, her own eyes growing wide as she took herself in. Her body had changed. Gone was the baby fat, or even the hint of it. Her stomach was smooth. Not muscular, but on the verge. Her thighs were larger, as were her forearms and biceps. Looking at her shoulders then her calves, it seemed that her body now was moving towards her memories of Athena’s. She wasn’t there yet, not even halfway. Perhaps thirty percent, but certainly much different than this morning.

 

“We don’t have time to deal with it right now.” Clarke advised, quickly moving to dress herself. Having gotten the lower armor on, and the boots, she draped the upper armor over herself and moved backwards towards Ontari, relying on her to lace and tie it since it did so in the back.

 

“We will have to get you new armor. This will work for today, and should you need it, you could now likely force it to let you move in any way you wish, but new armor is a must.”

 

Nodding, Clarke began to swing her arms and lift her knees. She could feel what Ontari meant. It wasn’t bad, but at about 80% of the limit of her range, it started to constrict. She could push and it would give, but it would probably tear the leather, thin as it was. Ontari was right, there was nothing to do for it now.

 

Preparations ready, Ontari had to leave to inform the Kwin. Informing Clarke of the same, the same as it’d been since her first match, Ontari reached through the cage and clasped Clarke’s forearm.

 

“May Wanheda be with you Clarke. _Your fight is not over_ ”.

 

“You’re damned right it’s not. Ge smak daun, gyon op nodotaim” Clarke said, releasing her grasp on Ontari’s arm. The girl took once last, lingering look, frankly impressed at Clarke's accent, or lack of one. Clarke hoped her gaze conveyed one thing and one thing only, ' _Thank you'_.

 

Nodding, Ontari strode out of the back area and through the tunnel, ascending the worn and cracked stone steps until she approached her Kwin’s box.

 

Coming to Nia’s side, Ontari bowed and waited.

 

_”Yes Ontari, is the Sky girl ready?”_

_”She is, my Kwin.”_

_”Good. Tonight she will receive top billing, the match of the night. I have a lovely surprise in store for our dear Clarke.”_

 

Nodding, Ontari said nothing. She’s spotted nothing out of the ordinary. Certainly the arena was full tonight, perhaps even to capacity. She could see the gona, and even some of Nia’s personal guard, the Raiders, around the edges of the fighting area to keep order. She’d never really been impressed with their color scheme. White fur, green paint, and helmets with tusks on them. They should’ve proudly worn the Azgeda blue, just like everyone else.

 

Standing beside Nia, Ontari observed six matches between prisoners, none lasting longer than five minutes. Sometimes men, sometimes women, sometimes one fighting the other, it didn’t seem to matter. As the announcer bellowed for quiet, a hush fell over the crowd.

 

_”And now, by special engagement by our most benevolent and powerful Kwin, we arrive at our last match of the day. Mountain Slayer!”_

 

The crowd quickly took up the chant, and Ontari knew that the guards would be bringing Clarke from her cell, handing her the sword she would use. She briefly spotted Clarke at the entrance to the tunnel before Clarke turned back, a brief scuffle appearing to ensue. When she appeared a few moments later, she held a sword in her main hand, and on her offhand arm, she wore a round metal shield. Ontari could guess who’s idea that was.

 

_”Have you taught her to use a shield Ontari?”_

 

_”No, my Kwin.”_

 

Nia hummed to herself, making no further comment. As Clarke kept walking, she came to a stop in the center of the fighting area. Looking around, she saw no other prisoner inside the circle. Likewise, Ontari looked on, confused. Nia simply sat smiling on her second throne.

 

_"Facing the Mountain Slayer tonight, our generous and most powerful Kwin has granted us a great gift. The Raiders!”_

 

Ontari stood in shock as one of Nia’s personal guards stepped into the circle. They were trained, and trained hard, from a very young age. On a good day, they might be able to score a hit on Ontari on her worst day. It was alarming that Nia would use her guard this way, but after what Clarke had demonstrated, Ontari was still confident. And then…

 

Another stepped into the circle.

 

And another. And another. And another. Over and over, again and again, Raiders stepped into the circle. If not for her nightblood, Ontari was sure she’d have either fainted or had a stroke. She couldn’t believe her eyes. Over and over she counted, arriving at the same number each time.

 

Twenty. Twenty bloodthirsty killers, men at least a foot taller than Clarke, trained for at least fifteen years to do anything the Kwin commanded. They’d cut their own mother’s throats and thank Nia for the honor. Looking down at Clarke, Ontari felt her eyes well up. That many Raiders could shred Ontari like a pauna with a bunny. ' _Spirits, Clarke is screwed'_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please remember to comment, and thank you for reading!


	7. The Other Other White Meat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fight! Also, the very interesting aftermath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took a couple of extra days, but you guys did get three chapters in three days last weekend, so I can't spoil you too much. This chapter is 6,799 words and took so long because the fight did NOT want to come out on paper. You may recognize a name amalgam in this chapter. I use it with all sincerity and quite purposefully.
> 
> Please notice that I've added two additional tags to the story. I got quite a reaction to Clarke's alone time in the last chapter, or I suppose it was actually Ontari's that got the most comments. Enjoy, and please remember to comment!

‘ _What fresh new Hell is this?’_ That thought echoed in Clarke’s mind as warrior after warrior stepped into the circle. Glancing at Ontari, she could see even from the distance the distress on the girl’s face. She nodded at her, as if to say ‘ _I’ve got this_ ’, now all she had to do was deliver.

 

Next to Ontari, she spotted Nia, the smug and hungry look in her eyes was unmistakable. She knew that Nia was likely growing impatient for Clarke to become Athena, or Wanheda, so that she could execute her and ‘take her power’, as if that were possible. ‘ _I doubt Nia would believe me if I told her the truth’._

 

Something that had been imparted during her unusual training that morning had been a revelation. While the spirit had chosen other bodies, likenesses, and forms throughout the years, Clarke was literally the reincarnation of Athena, complete with a face to match how Athena had looked thousands of years earlier. Her body wasn’t yet there, and due to the Ark’s severe lack of nutrition, she lacked about two inches in height and still lacked most of the muscle, but she was getting there. Spending so much time fighting in Athena’s, well, HER old body, she knew that this was as close as she’d get to those muscles without Becca’s help.

 

The human body could definitely be more muscular than she was now, but that was a normal human and normal muscles. With the density of bones and muscle fibers, not to mention the much faster nervous system she now had, this was the limit. She could only hope that somehow Nia played into her needs so that she could reach full potential.

 

Refocusing on the warriors in the ring, she counted twenty of them. Most of them looked massive, obviously relying on strength to provide their lethality. She knew that with her moderately improved strength, she still couldn’t match them, but that was where speed and reflexes came in. No, the ones that would be the most trouble were the more slender ones, the women, the ones that would’ve been trained and relied on speed and dexterity.

 

She also hoped that they didn’t attack all at once, because that shit would end her very quickly. She had no illusions of her own mortality, especially in this in-between state she currently found herself in. She could absolutely be killed, or crippled, maimed, or wounded. She would heal faster, yes, but she didn’t have the nightblood or any other of Becca’s discoveries. She definitely didn’t have the ambrosia left for her at the end of the Olympians’ reign, if it had even survived.

 

As the horn sounded, the warriors began to move. Readying her sword and shield, she lamented not having her weapons or armor that had been crafted by Hephaestus. She wondered how long a boat trip to Greece would take her and Lexa. While Athens was most assuredly gone, the weapons and armor were buried near the Acropolis. She also wondered why she was thinking in terms of Athena and herself interchangeably, which was weird. She’d worry about that if she lived after the next thirty minutes.

 

Three came at her at once, all huge man, all carrying swords and nothing else. One broke ranks and rushed at her, eager to score the win for his Kwin and destroy this upstart girl that the people had dared call Wanheda. In his eagerness and anger, he got within range while drawing back his greatsword above his head, planning on his downward blow chopping her in half. The tingle returned to Clarke’s skull.

 

Nia watched as the fool charged in. She’d given specific instructions, relayed through the head of The Raiders, that Clarke was not to be killed outright. They could injure, maim, or even fatally wound her, but her instant death was not allowed. When the girl died, it would be by her hand and no other. She’d go down there herself in behead the girl before she bled out if it came to that. This idiot, though, he’d obviously decided to take matters into his own hands. When this match was over, she’d enjoy slowly chopping pieces off of him in front of the other members of the guard. No matter how well-intentioned, no one defied her and lived.

 

The meaty thwack a moment later brought her out of her revelry, and she was focused once again. The Raider in question was no longer drawing back his sword. Clarke was now just behind him, twirling her’s. A moment later, the crowd surged to their feet as both of the man’s arms and his head hit the sand, his body following a moment later. A wide grin stretched across Nia’s face. Yes, this was more like it. That speed and strength had not come from fifteen days of training with her nightblood.

 

Ontari was amazed at the speed and strength Clarke displayed with that move. Apparently the ‘training’ and improved physique would be of more help than she thought. Ontari doubted she’d have tried that move, sure that her sword would’ve gotten hung up on an arm or possibly the neck. As she watched, the other two guards stopped their approach, appearing to size Clarke up again before widening their approach. Several more of the massive guards also started moving in Clarke’s direction.

 

She traded blows with the two for several moments, her shield being put to use, but against multiple opponents, it seemed to be slowing her down. Dispatching one of the initial three with a stab to the gut which she then sliced up to his chin, she blocked the second guard’s strike with her shield before removing his arm and then slicing his throat. The crowd was going wild.

 

Quickly making a decision, she looked at both of their weapons. One’s sword was quite long, the other a medium blade and slightly curved, almost like a katana. Quickly dropping her shield, she traded her original sword to her off hand and grabbed the katana-like sword in her main hand as it was a few inches longer than her original. Three down, seventeen to go. Another five were approaching at once, from all sides.

 

That was when the melee really began. From Ontari’s distance, Clarke became a whirlwind of blades, slicing, blocking, spinning, lunging, never stopping in her movements. As blades clashed from every direction, punches and kicks were thrown by both Clarke and the Raiders, no love lost between the combattants.

 

Taking a punch to the jaw, Clarke spun and sliced one guard across the stomach, his intestines spilling across the sand. Blocking a swing for her back, she severed the leg that was aimed at her own gut, the foot and lower leg up to mid-shin falling to the ground, the guard howling in pain. Receiving a slice across the back of her shoulder, she pivoted into a high kick to another guard’s head, the force of which propelled him backwards into another guard coming to join the melee.

 

It was at that point that three guards tackled her to the ground. At the bottom of the pile, she struggled to push the guards off of her. Using her left hand to push at the face of the guard directly on top of her, she hadn’t anticipated his next move. Opening his mouth, he bit her hand. He then kept biting, right up until the point that her pinky finger was in the totally wrong place, his closed mouth, while her hand was, well, still on her wrist. Recognizing the instant feeling of cold washing through her body as it’s attempt to go into shock, she fought against the reaction and decided that she was done with this shit.

 

Leaning forward, she nestled into his neck, appearing for all intents and purposes as if she was about to make out with him. As her mouth, now opened as wide as possible, came into contact with the side of his neck, Clarke savagely bit down as hard as she could, directly through his carotid artery and jugular vein. Deciding that he smelled and tasted nothing like pork, she yanked her head back, jaws still locked closed. The resulting geyser of blood washed over everyone in the pile, and one of the guards quickly moved away. The dying guard was, well, dying, which left one guard actively holding her down. Spitting the massive chunk of neck into his face, she used her hand, sans pinky, to grip him by the chest armor and push.

 

Her efforts were rewarded. He didn’t go flying as she knew he would have a few thousand years ago, but she did bodily lift him without much difficulty. As she regained her feet with only her katana in hand, she used it to bash him in the head to stop his struggles before letting go. As he fell to the sand, she flourished the sword with a quick wrist movement, his head sailing in an arc towards the rest of the Raiders that had not yet attacked before landing on the ground and rolling towards Nia’s box, located front and center to observe the action.

 

The third warrior, now free of the meaty chunk of his friend, tried to stealthily approach from the rear. Not bothering to look back, Clarke simply thrust her sword behind her, impaling him through the chest before he could complete his swing, her eyes remaining focused on the remaining eight.

 

Keeping an eye on them to make sure they didn’t try anything, she approached Mister Finger Food. Stabbing him through the forehead without looking, she leaned down and forced his mouth open. Fishing around for a moment, again still watching the other warriors, she came away with her severed pinky. Reaching up, she placed the finger inside the right cup of her chest piece, between her breast and the armor, for safekeeping. Reaching back down to Cannibal Carl, she tore a piece of fabric from his shirt and, using her teeth, tied off her bleeding pinky stub. Come to think of it, she should be thankful that the blood hadn't kept spurting out like it should have or she’d be passed out impersonating a pin cushion.

 

The eight continued to hold position as she leaned down a final time, retrieving the sword she’d lost in the dog pile. Once she touched the blade, two men and two women rushed  her, all from her forward facing. The men arrived first, far too eager and confident. Arm ear eye gut heart spleen thigh, there were now two left after Clarke’s alphabetical targeting. Here was where things became a pain in the ass, as opposed to just getting her fingers ripped off. Women warriors were fast, and they were nimble, and they were cautious, and they didn’t think that their weight gave them an advantage that Clarke was all too happy to shove up their asses.

 

They swung, and she started trading blows. It went back and forth, the two warriors moving to opposite facings to try to put Clarke at a disadvantage. She failed to be disadvantaged, though holding her sword firmly with three fingers and a thumb and a still-bleeding stump hurt and was slippery. After thirty-five seconds, the first woman went down. Clarke wasn’t proud of her hits, but she was fighting for her life here. A kick to the vagina and a glancing blow to the chest that severed the girl’s right breast were valid hits. She finished her off a moment later with a slice to her neck.

 

The remaining four, two men and two women, joined the remaining female warrior. Five on one. Sidestepping a few paces so that she didn’t end up tripping over intestines or severed heads, she kept her eyes fixed on her opponents. She’d taken a slice to the shoulder, being a warrior’s hors d'oeuvre, a slice to the side, another to the thigh, a cut along her upper arm, another on her forearm. She needed to get these bandaged and cleaned. She needed to sit down before she fell down.

 

“Look, if you just fall down I’ll tell Nia that I used my powers to knock you all out.”

 

None of them took her up on her generous offer. Ingrates.

 

The thrum intensified in the back of her head and she knew she had to end this, that Athena was telling her to end this. She’d never been in a fight like this before and, improved skills and body or not, she was willing to bet that the crash was coming. Eating half of Azgeda or not, she hadn’t rested since her training on steroids all morning.

 

Shooting to the side, she took one of the women warriors by surprise. Quickly disarming her, she was going to only minorly wound the woman, right up until she lunged at Clarke. A quick swipe opened up the woman’s shoulder on her way down, and a stab through her back and chest, and several inches of sand below her, finished her off.

 

She had to use the shorter sword to block the swing of the man who’d been beside her as she ripped her sword free, swinging it laterally at the targets that presented themselves given her crouched position, his legs. Correction, the stumps he now had. A thrust from the shorter sword through his forehead silenced his wailing. Three to go.

 

One of the remaining women came at her then, armed with a curved sword and a small shield. Her sword work was quite good, for ten seconds or so. A sword to the gut opened her defenses, and the other sword entering her neck and out the back a good six inches finished that fight.

 

Withdrawing both blades, she faced the last two, a man and woman. Clarke could feel the fatigue setting in, her muscles aching, her energy flagging. In her periphery, now that she was facing Nia’s box, she could see Ontari’s eager, hopeful expression. She could also see Nia’s angry but calculating look. Nia must’ve been banking on Clarke getting her ass kicked, on Athena taking hold completely in order to rescue her host.

 

Clarke knew that she might share some thoughts with Athena, and a certain amount of memories, but the wall that separated them from fully being one wasn’t going to come down until her body and brain could handle it. No, for this fight and all the rest, she’d be on her own. She only hoped that she could survive this, defeat Nia, and get back to Lexa in time to get Becca’s inventions. Now that Athena had started the process by improving her, she had months, if that, to take the next step before her body burnt itself out.

 

The woman she faced looked dangerous, the man even more so. From his armor, if she had to guess, this was their leader or captain. The woman likewise had more intricate armor, more intricate braids and face paint. Looking back at the man, she let the woman think that she’d attack him next and she waited. Sure enough, a few moments later, the woman started to slowly inch her way to the side as if to flank Clarke. She’d gotten two full side-steps to the left when Clarke’s short sword embedded itself between her eyes. In the next heartbeat, her body fell straight back into the sand, landing with a harsh thump.

 

“What is your name, warrior of Azgeda?”

 

“I am Jaroth, Captain of the Raiders.”

 

“Well Jaroth, your warriors were overconfident, under-trained, and fought with almost no strategy. While they might’ve died honorably, the fact that you led them so poorly means that you won’t.”

 

He snarled at her, impotent in his rage in the face of the truth.

 

“You strike me as the kind of arrogant prick that likes being in charge of other people’s lives and then screwing them over to get some kind of thrill from your control. You’re the kind of bastard that would kill off someone’s lover just to watch the survivor twist in the wind.”

 

She attacked immediately.

 

He was strong, but thanks to her enhancements, he wasn’t that much stronger. Indeed, when they locked blades diagonally in front of one another, she was able to push him back a step or two before he had to regain his balance and put all of his weight behind holding her blade back.

 

Waiting until he committed to it, she lashed out with her foot to the side of his left knee, hearing the satisfying pop as she forced his thigh and shin into two different angles. Rather than falling, he immediately shifted his weight onto his good leg.

 

Not letting his change in position go to waste, she spun his blade with her own in a circle several times, stepping closer each time, until she caught the body of his blade between her arm and ribs, clamping her arm to her side with all her strength to trap the blade there. She continued the circular motion of her own blade, removing both of his hands at the wrists.

 

Peeling his hands off of his now unsupported blade, she took it into her other hand, crossing both swords in front of his neck and looking up at defiantly Nia.

 

“You’re not going to get what you want.” Looking directly into Nia’s smirking face, she yanked the swords closed, Jaroth’s head popping off like a champagne cork. The crowd went insane, and Nia’s smirk turned into a scowl. She wanted her people entertained, but she couldn’t afford to have public sentiment on the Sky girl’s side.

 

Arms lifted in the air, a sword in each hand, Clarke enjoyed the roar of the crowd for her victory. She had overcome really shitty odds and had beaten them all, including that useless dickbag Jaroth. Her destiny belonged to her, not anyone else. Nothing was going to keep her and Lexa apart, certainly not some moron with delusions of grandeur. Dropping both swords in the sand, she made her way to the tunnel that would return her to her cage, where she’d remain before being taken back to her cell in the keep. She hoped a fisa was in her future, but she doubted it. Maybe she could try to sew the finger back on and count on her improved healing. She did have the literally bloody thing stuck to her boob right now.

 

Sitting on the stool inside her cell, she grabbed the cup provided and immediately started drinking the less than fresh water. After a few minutes, she wondered what was keeping Ontari.

 

Standing in Kwin Nia's box, Ontari resisted the urge to throw up her arms and cheer as Clarke finished off the asshole named Jaroth. He was a complete prick, all things considered. Ontari had dealt with him before, usually in situations where his idiot ideas caused trouble. He thought he was the Spirit’s gift to the world, rising to Captain on the backs of other people’s successes. He wouldn’t be bothering anyone again.

 

“ _Ontari.”_

 

_“Yes my Kwin?”_

 

_“How can you explain the Sky girl’s sudden knowledge and obvious skill in combat?”_

 

Ontari’s mind raced. She and Clarke hadn’t had time to come up with a lie about where her strength and skills had come from, and Ontari wondered if she could even pull one off at this point. She wasn’t a great liar, and what else could she say? Clarke secretly trained in sword fighting while growing up in the sky?

 

_“My Kwin, the Sky girl had a vision this morning. When she woke, she said that The Commander of Death had imparted experience with the sword.”_

 

 _“I see.”_ Nia replied. Yes, it was certainly possible. The legends did describe visions given to vessels of the Spirits. If the information she’d been given was accurate, Wanheda would not fully choose the Sky girl yet, knowing that she lacked the nightblood. Wanheda wouldn’t want to be chained to such an inferior host, from what she could deduce.

 

“ _Was this her only vision from Wanheda?”_

 

Ontari knew that this question was trouble. If she told Nia about the buzz, the peaceful place Clarke went when tortured, the nights spent in Heda’s arms, she had no doubt that Clarke’s suffering would increase a hundred fold in an attempt to either break through the peaceful trance or to trigger Heda or Wanheda into acting foolishly.

 

“ _Yes my Kwin, it was her first vision.”_

 

 _“Hmm. You will alert me immediately if she has any more. Return her to her cell in the keep. She may be seen by a healer, but only given aid for serious injuries that could lead to permanent damage.”_ She couldn’t afford to slow down her timetable due to injuries. Clarke needed to be healthy for the torture and repeated battles to achieve the best results.

 

“Yes, my Kwin.” Bowing to Nia, Ontari turned and left as Nia dismissed her with a wave of the hand. Hurrying down the steps, she kicked Jaroth’s severed head as she passed it, scooping up both his sword, which was far too nice of a weapon for him to have deserved, as well as the katana that Clarke had used, intending on retaining them for Clarke’s use in future battles. Having a quality weapon would only serve to help Clarke in the future.

 

Arriving at the cell, she spotted Clarke seated on the stool, leaning back against the bars, sound asleep. Handing the two swords to one of the two usual guards that always followed them, she signaled to the other to open the cage. Stepping inside, she gripped Clarke’s shoulder and shook her gently.

 

“Mmmm Lexa?” Clarke mumbled, opening her eyes with a hopeful look, replaced with a pout a moment later as she registered Ontari standing above her.

 

“Not even close Sky girl. Come on, time to get you in bed.” As she snapped the bindings on Clarke’s wrists, she realized how that sounded, but kept her mouth shut as she flushed in embarrassment.

 

“Let’s go Clarke. We will get you a fisa on the way back. I saw you fish your finger out of that idiot’s mouth. Do you still have it?” Ontari asked, concerned that Clarke might not be able to regain it. Falling into step beside Clarke and to the left, they made their way out of the tunnel and through the crowds from the back entrance.

 

Reaching into her armor, yanking the leather forward enough to reach down for her pinky, Ontari turned at the movement in her peripheral vision. Being to Clarke’s left as Clarke yanked on the right cup of her chest armor, Ontari was treated to the sight of Clarke’s entire exposed breast, including nipple, before Clarke’s left hand reached in and fished around for the finger. Much to Ontari’s chagrin, it appeared that the pinky had come to a rest below Clarke’s breast, and Clarke basically had to lift her entire breast out of the way to get at it.

 

Cursing as her face impacted with the stone pillar, Ontari corrected her path and made sure to look where she was going, finger now retrieved and held in Clarke’s good hand. Trying not to feel disappointed while at the same time trying to control the pink tinge on her cheeks and ear tips, she led Clarke into the keep and towards the dungeon.

 

“My people typically burn wounds closed, which will not help. I assume you will want to try to sew the finger back on?” Ontari asked as they started down the steps.

 

“Yes, so I’ll need the cleanest water possible, a few towels or cloths, a needle and strong thread.”

 

Turning to one of the two guards following her, she sent him to retrieve the fisa and the items Clarke had listed, not bothering to repeat the list since they were trained to pay attention.

 

Arriving back in their quarters, she suggested that Clarke take a shower, knowing that getting clean was probably the first step in treating her various wounds.

 

“Will you sew all of your cuts, or are you going to bandage them and see if they close on their own?” she asked.

 

“Probably sew them shut. If this healing thing works, great, but if it’s anything like the body normally heals, it’s going to be busy with my pinky stump, so I want the healing to focus there instead of twenty different places.”

 

Nodding, she followed Clarke into the bathroom, carrying a towel for her.

 

“Uh, Ontari, would you mind helping me get out of all of this? The more I use this hand, the more it bleeds.”

 

“Of course Clarke.”

 

Ontari set to work, removing Clarke’s boots first, then socks. That finished, she moved to release the laces on the chest armor before instructing Clarke to sit down and put her arms up. That done, she grasped the chest armor and worked it over Clarke’s head, dropping it to the side to be disposed of now that Clarke would be getting a new set. Having Clarke stand again, she began unwrapping Clarke’s chest binding.

 

Setting that to the side, she tried to remain stoic in the face of Clarke’s sweaty, exposed body directly in front of her. Kneeling down, she unlaced both sides of Clarke’s lower body armor, a leather skirt type item. As that dropped to the floor, Clarke stepped out of it and Ontari realized her real test was yet to come. As Clarke stood lighted by candles and a lamp, less than two feet separated Ontari from Clarke’s glistening body. Bending at the waist, Ontari took Clarke’s underwear in her hands, trying to avoid her fingertips coming into contact with Clarke’s hips.

 

As she slid them down Clarke’s legs, she absentmindedly took a breath, Clarke’s arousal flooding her senses. She could practically taste Clarke in the back of her throat and, swallowing, she quickly finished sliding Clarke’s panties to the floor. Clarke stepped out of them and, seeing the effect she was having on Ontari, turned towards the shower and started the water so that Ontari couldn't see her teasing smile. Getting the temperature right, using only her good hand, she flipped it to the shower setting and stepped inside, drawing the curtain mostly closed, mindful to leave a few inches to honor their mutual agreement and an inch or two extra to drive Ontari insane.

 

Wanting to stay close in case Clarke needed help, at least that’s what Ontari told herself, she moved to sit down on the toilet rather than stand right next to the shower. As she did so, she realized that she was still holding Clarke’s drenched panties in her left hand. Glancing back to the shower, she could make out Clarke’s water-slick back through the small opening in the curtain. Glancing down, seeing Clarke’s wet ass that was getting more muscled by the day, she felt her pussy clench around nothing, a wave of arousal flowing out and onto her thighs.

 

_‘I can be quick. This isn’t disrespectful to Heda. I can be so fucking quick.’_

 

Setting the soaked panties on her own chest and leaning back, she used both hands to quickly unlace the front of her leather pants. That done, she shimmied back and forth, pulling them down her hips to mid thigh. Wasting no time, she immediately shoved two long fingers into her aching pussy, stroking fast and deep.

 

Torn between using her other hand on her nipples or not, she instead picked up Clarke’s panties from her chest and brought them to her face, inhaling deeply. Feeling her clit throbbing, she quickly started working it with her thumb, pistoning her fingers in and out as quickly as she could, eager to finish before Clarke’s shower ended. With the aroma of Clarke’s pussy filling her nose, her fingers frantically hammering into her pussy, and her thumb circling her clit feverishly, she looked over at the shower, feeling her orgasm building like a tidal wave.

 

Vision focusing, she looked between the gap in the curtain and what she saw made her breath hitch in her throat. Standing there with her head tilted back was Clarke, no longer facing away from Ontari, but turned directly towards her, water pouring over her back and head, streams running down between her breasts. Following the water with her eyes, she traced the path down from Clarke’s collarbones, past the valley of her breasts, large nipples standing erect in the middle of medium bronze areolas roughly two inches in diameter. Moving down, passed Clarke’s slightly muscled, glistening flat stomach, her breath again hitched as her eyes landed on the patch of dark blonde curls on Clarke’s mound. Focusing her eyes fully, she saw her slightly parted labia and just a hint of Clarke’s hard clit peeking out from between her folds. She could even make out the hint of creamy white on Clarke’s lips and upper thighs. That was the final straw and, throwing caution to the wind, the inside-out panties, crotch-first, went into Ontari’s mouth to sit directly on her tongue. Moaning deeply, the sweet tangy taste was going to make her cum in seconds.

 

Ontari increased her pace even more, right on the edge after seeing Clarke’s most intimate parts and actually tasting her still-warm cum mixed with her sweat. Seeing movement, she looked up, and that’s when Ontari’s orgasm hit her like a freight train.

 

Clarke deep blue eyes were staring right at her.

 

Ontari was mortified, but it was too late. Hell, with Clarke’s panties hanging out of her mouth, one hand squeezing and pulling on her nipple, her breast pulled out of her armor and sitting on top of the leather for all to see, and her other hand between her spread legs, her pussy on display, there was no denying what she was doing.

 

Looking into Clarke’s eyes, she clamped her mouth shut, getting a fresh taste of Clarke’s cum as a second orgasm hit on top of the first, her pussy clenching so tightly around her fingers that she had to slow down. As a scream tore up her throat, her eyes rolled back into her head and a wave of hot cum shot out of her quivering pussy, the liquid completely soaking her hand and splashing over her leather pants. Her body deciding that this was how she was going to die, she continued gushing rhythmically to the beat of her pussy clamping down on her fingers for a full five seconds, her hand, pants, and the floor covered in her milky cum.

 

Collapsing back against the toilet, Clarke’s underwear still in her mouth, Ontari panted hard, trying to get her breathing under control. Releasing her nipple and taking her hand from her breast, she took the underwear, now soaked in both Clarke’s cum and her own saliva, out of her mouth. Opening her eyes, she looked back at Clarke, who did the damnedest thing. She gave Ontari what, at least in Ontari’s opinion, was the sexiest fucking smirk she could ever imagine seeing, looking up and down Ontari’s sweaty, cum-drenched body, then she turned around and finished washing.

 

Realizing or perhaps hoping that Clarke was giving her an out, Ontari tried to pull herself together. Pulling her pants up, not worrying about the cum soaking the inside, she left the bathroom to grab a spare towel. Cleaning her hand one finger at a time with her mouth, she set about wiping down the outside of her pants with the towel before returning and doing the same with the floor.

 

She was on her hands and knees wiping down the floor, and fuck did she cum all over, when Clarke stepped out of the shower, naked wet pussy literally four inches from Ontari’s face. Water was running down all over Clarke’s skin and, as Ontari watched, struggling to maintain herself, a single delicious bead of cum welled-up from Clarke’s slit, running forward to rest just behind her engorged clit, now seriously peeking out from its hood. Closing her eyes she inhaled, licking her lips before looking up Clarke’s very naked, very wet body, passed her perfectly erect nipples and directly into Clarke’s eyes. Clarke had her head tilted forward, looking down at Ontari as she dried her hair with her towel.

 

‘ _I wonder how much more I can fuck with her before she cums in her pants’_.

 

Clarke finished drying her hair, moving on to her neck, then shoulders, then underarms, spending extra time there since she hadn’t shaved in months. Ontari watched it all, not reacting until Clarke had the towel around her back, the ends pulled to her front to be used to inefficiently dry her breasts, the corners of the fabric clasped in Clarke’s hands, the fabric and her fingers closing around her nipples, pinching and pulling under the pretense of drying herself.

 

Ontari glanced down as Clarke widened her stance slightly, having to bite her lip as the new position and stimulation of her nipples caused several more drops of Clarke’s wetness to leak out of her pussy. Clenching her legs tightly closed, Ontari could feel her clit starting to throb again, even so soon after the hardest orgasm she could remember. She knew the Sky girl was trouble from the day she laid eyes on her, but this was something else entirely.

 

Wicked grin firmly affixed to her face, Clarke decided to up the ante. Lifting her left leg, she set her foot flat on the edge of the tub, opening her pussy and angling it right at Ontari’s face, giving her a perfect view. Ignoring the whimper and the barely audible ‘ _Spirits’_ from Ontari, she carefully leaned to the side to begin drying her now elevated leg. She had to be very careful indeed to keep from thrusting her hips forward since that four inches of space seemed to have shrunk to maybe two and a half. As she carefully dried her foot, moving to her ankle and then her calf, she heard Ontari give up on breathing through her nose, probably trying to stop driving herself insane with the smell of pussy right in front of her face. It had the unintended reaction of sending a very large wave of hot breath directly over Clarke’s pussy. Hips jerking involuntarily at the feeling of hot air on her clit, she didn’t quite make contact with Ontari’s face, but it was close.

 

Feeling the tickle of Clarke’s public hair on her nose, Ontari almost screamed. Clarke immediately made a bit more room, but that two and a half inches was now more like one and a half. Ontari’s entire vision was filled with Clarke’s glistening, puffy, wet pussy complete with her exposed clit. If Ontari wanted to be savagely murdered, she wouldn’t even have to lean forward, just stick her tongue out and she’d be caressing Clarke’s clit. That thought promptly made her close her eyes and moan, a new wave of arousal flooding her pants.

 

Deciding enough was enough, Clarke quickly dried her other leg, leaning back to ensure that she didn’t ride Ontari’s face in the process. That done, pussy still wide open, she flipped the towel to an unused portion and brought it against her pussy and clit. Reacting to the pressure, a wave of her own arousal coated the fabric. Making sure to wipe it all off of herself, she lowered her leg from the edge of the tub, Ontari watching the entire time, still on her hands and knees.

 

“I’m going to work on my wounds. Here.” Clarke said, and much to Ontari’s shock, Clarke handed her the towel, the fresh coating of her cum plain to see. Ontari took it, careful not to brush the towel against anything, as Clarke turned and left the bathroom. Ontari watched as she grabbed the healing supplies that’d been left on the table while Clarke had showered and headed into her cell, sitting on the bed.

 

Looking down at the towel, Ontari stood and looked back at Clarke.

 

Clarke heard the bathroom door being closed, stopping a few inches short, and smiled. She got dressed in shorts and undershirt, then went to work on her wounds, stitching up what she could with the needle and thread provided, now that she was clean. She worked methodically, keeping the stitches small for the best result. All things considered, she thought she did a good job despite the wet slapping sounds and moaning coming from the bathroom. She chose to ignore what she thought was the rhythmic chanting of her name sounding like it was being spoken around a towel. All things considered, she’d rather be making love to Lexa rather than stitching her own wounds, but thankfully some numbing salve had been left with the supplies.

 

Ontari came out of the bathroom when Clarke was about three quarters of the way done. She looked sweaty, wrecked, and Clarke could smell  her cum and sweat from ten feet away. Far from unpleasant, she had to shift her sitting position twice trying to get comfortable again. On further reflection, she also decided that Ontari’s leather pants were making a wet sound every time the girl took a step or shifted positions. Filing that bit of information away, she decided to suggest more spare towels in their quarters since obviously ejaculating wasn’t a rare thing for the girl. Deciding that the only thing that would make this awkward was acting awkward, she spoke up.

 

“Ontari, I never thought i’d say this. Can you bring me my finger please? I left it on the table.”

 

Ontari burst out laughing, covering her mouth with one hand and bracing herself against a chair with the other. Getting herself under control, she grabbed the wrapped up finger and brought it to Clarke.

 

“I need to check it to see if it’s gotten, well, bad already. Usually we’d put a severed finger or toe in ice, but I’m hoping the cold temperatures did the trick. If not, and I attached it, it could still die. I’d have to cut it off before it poisoned me.”

 

Nodding, Ontari unwrapped it and looked at it. It was bloody, and the skin was jagged, but it didn’t look like it had started to rot. It certainly wasn’t as clean a cut as if it had been done with a sword, but the warrior appeared to have used his front ‘cutting’ teeth, so it wasn’t gnawed up either.

 

“I’m going to do the parts of it that I can, but before we start this, I need you to have them get a few more things. I need two very thin and flat pieces of wood so that I can brace this on either side, and fabric that I can wrap around the whole thing and tie it off to hold the wood in place.”

 

Nodding her understanding, she went to the door and talked quietly for a moment before returning.

 

“We use similar materials for broken fingers, so he should be able to get them easily from whatever fisa is on duty. I told him to explain what you are doing so that if the fisa has anything else that might be helpful, they will send it.”

 

“Thank you Ontari.”

 

“While we wait, I wanted to tell you how proud I am of you Clarke. I know you have no reason to believe this, and that most of your training has come from Wanheda, but seeing you battle against those odds, to see you prevail, vanquishing all twenty of the chosen Raiders, including their idiot captain Jaroth, gave me great pride to be your ticha.”

 

Placing her good hand on Ontari’s shoulder, Clarke looked at her with sincerity saying “Mochof Ontari.”

 

The guard arrived a moment later, and Clarke went to work reattaching her finger. It was awkward, and hurt like grinding glass into her finger stump, but she did it. She carefully lined up the bone, and she prayed hard to Athena, which felt weird since she was praying to herself really, and hoped that the healing would make the difference since she couldn’t stitch the veins or arteries.

 

Ontari helped with wrapping it, and she did so around the finger and around the palm of her hand to support the finger and prevent it from bending. Moving to the table, she ate slowly and methodically, noting absently that there were again five meals to Ontari’s one. If this kept up she was going to start thinking she was a pig. Neither of them spoke further, not about the fight nor about Ontari cumming like a waterfall with Clarke’s soaked underwear stuffed in her mouth. Clarke just wondered what could possibly be next and how much longer it would take her to reach Lexa. And how much farther she could push Ontari until she was masturbating in front of her, not even bothering to hide it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please comment, we love them!


	8. What a Tangled Web We Weave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next day. Also, we see some old friends, some lovely ladies, and travel plans are made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EK - Well folks, this chapter has taken a lot to come out. I can't really describe why, but trying to match up things between three different groups was a pain, and most of this chapter is setup for some payoff next chapter. That chapter is already partially written and will be posted BY FRIDAY, no matter what.
> 
> So, this is five thousand words and gets the ball rolling. There's a time jump in this chapter, though not super far. Get buckled up.
> 
> Also, my cancer treatment is now ever, so the single most pressing thing in my schedule has just disappeared, meaning I can write more.
> 
> Thank you again to everyone that commented on the last chapter and for all the kudos. We really appreciate it!

The next morning, Clarke woke up and laid there, taking stock of her body. She still ached all over, but she hurt much less than she’d feared she would. Again thanking Athena, well, herself, for the gift of a stronger body, she sat up and gave herself a once-over. The wrap for her finger had come loose in the night, and she unwrapped it so that she could set the splint and do it again.

 

The stitches were gone. Flipping her hand back and forth, again and again, she stared in shock. Looking to the side, she noticed a pile of thread sitting on the bed, tied off just as the stitches were. It was stained with dried blood, just sitting there uselessly, as if her body had pushed out the thread while healing her finger. She experimentally flexed her fingers, and other than a little tightness, it seemed fine. She still had some scarring from the teeth marks, but she could live with that.

 

As she got up, the outer door to their quarters opened and Ontari walked inside, her eyes immediately going to Clarke’s hand. She wordlessly walked over, extending her own hand to Clarke and lifting the hand directly in front of her face, examining it closely.

 

“Kwin Nia has ordered that your torture sessions are on hold until further notice. She asked me during your battle yesterday about your new skills, and I was forced to tell her about your vision, though I did say that it was the first you’d had.”

 

“That’s fine Ontari, it’s not like you had much of a choice in how to explain things.”

 

Nodding, Ontari continued “Since you have had your only vision, as far as she knows, while training in preparation for a fight where the odds were against you, she has decided that we are going to focus on your training and matches in the arena. Since your skill with a sword most assuredly exceeds mine, we’ll move on to other weapons.”

 

Nodding, Clarke was about to reply when there was a knock on the door signaling the arrival of their breakfast.

 

This was their new normal, training and fighting, with Clarke facing more and more difficult adversaries. Ontari would announce a new weapon to learn, or sometimes Clarke would choose, and they would practice. Invariably Athena would gift her with more knowledge, more experience using the weapon during her immortal existence, and Clarke would learn. The knowledge and experience for these new weapons weren’t accompanied by any other physical changes, and Clarke knew why. She was at her limit physically. That didn’t stop her from exercising though; she did have to maintain her fitness levels.

 

She also continued to battle in the arena, the crowd rallying to her side more and more each fight. Sometimes she’d fight prisoners, but often she’d fight whatever cock-sure gladiator was in town, having heard of Wanheda doing battle in Nia’s capital and wanting to be the one to take her down. The scale of the battles kept increasing as well, and she even fought with allies at times. Before long, Clarke realized, it had been three months since she’d last seen Murphy or Kane or any of the others. She hoped that her people were thriving, doing what was needed to prepare for winter on the ground. She gave up trying to imagine what was happening back at their camp, knowing that a lot can happen in twelve weeks.

 

\--------------------------------------------

 

A lot had happened in twelve weeks. Since Clarke walked away, shit had started to go downhill quickly. Murphy wasn’t stupid, he could see the writing on the wall as much as the next guy. He’d tried, over the course of the last three months, to do what Clarke had asked of him, namely, take care of the remaining 100 and try to keep Bellamy and Abby Griffin (or, as he liked to call them, Tweedle Dick and Hitler) from taking over. That hope had been a fairytale. People who were willing to use and abuse others always seemed to rise up to crush good people, either through blackmail, violence, or hurting the people you care about.

 

Raven was a prime example. She still limped around the camp, but no one there could say that they didn’t know the score. She hadn’t gotten treatment, she and Wick had an on again off again thing going, and it seemed like both Bellamy and Abby were manipulating her, threatening her, even hurting her to get what they wanted, namely her obedience. She was the most skilled mechanic and tech they had, probably before or after the ground, and no one believed they’d survive long without her miracles. Sure, they had other mechanics and technicians, they had Sinclair, Clarke’s father Jake’s replacement, but they all deferred to Raven. She led a team of twenty, with Wick and Monty and even Sinclair as her primary advisors in areas she was less familiar with. With her brain and real world knowhow, they’d managed electricity to spare, working water filtration and recycling, and even managed to access the learning texts on Earth Skills, thanks to Monty’s magic with the mainframe. Did all that buy her respect? Not if her bruises and the random screams said anything. Wick did nothing to stop it, and despite Murphy trying to look out for her, he couldn’t be at her side 24/7. It hadn’t stopped him from beating some of the guards asses though. Murphy knew that the real bastard that needed to pay was Bellamy. Raven wouldn’t talk, and without confirmation, Kane was powerless, but Murphy knew, just like he knew that Abby was behind it, because Raven wasn’t loyal to Abby, or to Bellamy, or even to Kane, (though she did respect him), not even a little. Just like himself, Raven’s loyalty was to Clarke and Clarke alone.

 

Speaking of Bellamy though, that piece of shit had been given a gift far beyond what John knew he’d ever deserve in a thousand lifetimes. About ten days after the mountain, a grounder girl had shown up named Echo. It seemed like she felt that she owed Bellamy some debt after the rescue at the mountain. She didn’t say anything, but Murphy knew that her debt was owed far more to Clarke, or even himself, than to Bellamy. Based on Echo’s looks when their gazes met, Echo likely agreed. Bellamy had somehow twisted that gratitude into dating Echo, or at least fucking her. Bellamy had put up a good act, but that was all it was. It also quickly ended, with Bellamy deciding he could fuck anything he wanted while keeping Echo on the side. Given her obvious skills, Murphy thought it was completely stupid, since she could’ve utterly destroyed Bellamy in a fight, but she hadn’t. A few weeks later, she’d simply slipped away from the camp.

 

Bellamy had turned into even more of an asshole than before, having lost his prize and not seeing the point to maintaining the pretense any further. Abby was losing her grip, making more and more asinine decisions that Kane couldn’t gloss over. No one was preparing for what was sure to be a harsh winter, and Murphy knew that without Clarke’s leadership, they wouldn’t stand a chance of coming together and surviving. They needed Clarke, to help Raven, to keep Bellamy in check, to overthrow her mother, to stand united with Murphy and Kane. There wasn’t any other option. As much as he wanted to let Clarke do her own thing, to recover from what she’d done at the mountain and make peace with herself, he couldn’t let everything she’d worked for, the survival of her people, turn to ash.

 

It was for those reasons that Murphy found himself gathering supplies, in secret of course. Over the course of three days, he’d gathered food and a few medical supplies, bandages and antiseptics and even some pain reliever. Almost ready to leave, he decided that he needed to be armed. Who knew what the grounders thought of them at this point? It’s not like they had a treaty anymore.

 

Sneaking into the armory between guard changes thanks to the key he’d palmed off of a drunk Bellamy, he quickly went to the small arms locker on the opposite wall. A rifle would be great, but sneaking out with one would be tough. He hadn’t planned on the electronic lock that greeted him, and decided that he’d have to find a way to smash or pry it open. Looking around for something to use, he wasn’t prepared for a voice to speak up behind him.

 

“John, what are you doing?” The voice said, and turning around, Murphy saw that it was Kane. Of all the people it could’ve been, this might be his only chance. That didn’t stop his scowl from Kane using his first name though.

 

“I have to find her Kane, you know we’re not going to last without real leadership, without Clarke.” Seeing that Kane was about to respond, he interrupted. “No, I know you’re doing all that you can, but you and I can only do so much. We’re great right hands in our own way, but we need Clarke, we need a leader, someone who can organize and inspire, someone who’s the opposite of Abby and Bellamy.”

 

Kane stood silent, not only considering the words but the young man in front of him. Up on the Ark, he’d hated Murphy. The boy had a chip on his shoulder the size of Mecha station, but Marcus didn’t really blame him after what had happened to his family. Still, not for the first time, he wondered what magic Clarke had performed to knock the chip off. John was right, they needed Clarke, her strong will, her charisma, her ability to knock heads together to get them to hear reason. He also wished, not for the first time, that he could’ve gone with the 100 to the ground and witnessed what they’d endured, to see Clarke and Murphy and Raven become the different people they were today. They never ceased to amaze him. The irony, of course, was that Kane himself had totally changed from the asshole he’d been on the Ark.

 

“The code to the locker is 2-8-4-3-6-2. Take a sidearm and four magazines, just in case. And grab a thigh holster from the shelves over there. I’ve never understood you kids tucking guns in your waistband. You’re going to shoot your ass or dick off one of these days.”

 

Murphy, not prepared for Kane to be that human, let alone agree with him or cuss, chuckled aloud as he did what he was told. He also grabbed a shock baton, noting Kane’s nod as he did so, and stuffed it all into a backpack.

 

“John, I’d go with you if I could. This’ll be dangerous, but try to hurry. I’ll do my best to get everyone working towards stocking up for winter while you’re gone, just in case.”

 

“Hey, don’t go getting sentimental, old man. We all need this, and you’re right, you’re needed here. Just try to look after Raven until I get back. Octavia and the rest are too wrapped up in themselves to see what’s happening around here, not as long as it’s not right under their noses.”

 

“It’s almost lunch. When the mess hall bell sounds for last call, I’ll give you a five minute window for the fence with the power off. The switches are on the patrol route, so that’s all I can safely do without someone discovering it.”

 

Nodding, Murphy decided that Kane was a hundred times the man he was back on the Ark. He’d never been intentionally cruel, just doing what Jaha dictated, but here on the ground, it seemed that Kane had really come into his own.

 

Kane reached out, grasping John’s forearm in the way he’d seen grounders do. They were on the ground now, so why not?

 

“May we meet again Kane, and thanks.”

 

“No thanks needed to do the right thing. May we meet again John.” At Murphy’s scowl, he lifted one corner of his mouth in a grin, “Murphy.”

 

At that, Murphy nodded and, getting the signal from Kane at the door after he’d checked the hall in both directions, he slipped passed him and scurried away. Reaching his room, which was more of a closet, he quickly combined his supplies, keeping the gun in his waistband but with both a shirt and a jacket over it. He’d use the holster once he was away from camp. A bullet to the balls or ass cheek wasn’t a happy thought, and guns pinch when they’re just stuffed inside your pants.

 

Murphy got to the mess hall and ate all the food he could as quickly as possible, knowing it’d be his last hot food for a while. Rushing back to his room, he put on the backpack and made his way to the back side of the Ark, to a section of the fence hidden by some debris that they hadn’t bothered to clear yet. Just another example of Hitler’s shitty leadership. Who left junk near your perimeter fence? Blind spots were the last thing you wanted.

 

As the bell sounded, Murphy gave himself a mental sixty second countdown, just in case Kane had been delayed. Looking both ways, he crept towards the fence, reaching out a hand to test the wires. Touching it, he breathed a sigh of relief when nothing happened.

 

He pushed the wires with his hands and one foot, creating a gap before he ducked and twisted through the opening. Releasing the wires on the other side, he quickly made his way to the woods, getting a good twenty feet into them before he stopped and looked back, ensuring that he wasn’t seen. There weren’t even any guards in sight. Shaking his head at their pathetic security, he attached the thigh holster to his belt and put the gun in place. Throwing the backpack on, he started walking in the direction that Clarke had taken.

 

Murphy tried to take in everything as he walked north. He knew that this path would eventually lead him to the dropship, and he figured that Clarke would’ve stopped by there, at least temporarily.

 

Arriving several hours later, he wasn’t surprised to see that someone had been through the supplies that’d been left behind. He could see, based on the dust on the floor, that Clarke had gotten clothes, dried foods, medical supplies, and even appeared to have spent the night in one of the hammocks. Deciding there was nothing else here to see, he went back outside and looked around the camp. Just passed what was once the front gates, he spotted the differences immediately. On the sign at their graveyard, he spotted where Clarke had added Charlotte’s name. Off to one side, in a clearing, he also saw where a pyre had been made. He walked over to it and stood, bowing his head and remembering the little sister he and Clarke had basically adopted as family. His thoughts were interrupted when he was clubbed over the head, falling unconscious immediately.

 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------

 

“ _What do you mean, you could not find her?_ ” Lexa said, sitting on her throne and receiving the report from Anya.

 

“ _Heda, we have searched the entire breadth of area between the border and their metal station. Though it has been a season since she left her people, we found a cave that appeared to have been lived in for a time, and it contained possessions that likely belonged to Wanheda. There were also indications in the woods, though well hidden and worn away with age, that a struggle took place a short distance away. A group of horses then left, travelling north_.”

 

Lexa, fearing the worst, immediately leapt from her throne and motioned for Anya to follow. Not wanting to wait for the elevator, she took the stairs, descending several flights until she came to the floor she wanted, the one containing the map rooms. Pushing through the doors, she went to the table which displayed Trikru lands.

 

“ _Show me this cave._ ” she ordered, standing aside for Anya.

 

Taking a moment to get her bearings, Anya traced a finger along a river that traveled from a waterfall until it reached the point of the cave. “ _It was here Heda. The area we found in the woods was here, just west of the cave_.”

 

Eyeing the area, Lexa felt dread spread through her. Directly north, not more than a few hours ride, was the border to Azgeda. Looking at Anya, trying to remain stoic and utterly failing, she couldn’t help but give voice to her thoughts.

 

“ _Nia has her, she has my Klark_.”

 

“Lexa…” Anya said, walking closer and clasping her former Seken, her younger sister in many respects, on the shoulder.

 

Lexa turned away, regaining her steady breathing after about twenty seconds. Having regained her composure, Lexa looked at the situation through Heda’s eyes.

 

“ _Nia will not kill her, not as she did with Costia, not yet. The stories of Wanheda will have reached Nia, and she will do everything in her power to ensure that Clarke reaches her full potential. It is Wanheda’s power that she will covet_.”

 

Anya agreed, it made sense, and not just because that was their only hope. It also gave Lexa hope, so happily accept the assessment of the situation.

 

“ _We did find her general, Murphy kom Skaikru, looking around the area. He was near the Sky Fallen’s original camp, the dropship, standing next to the pyre that Clarke made for the girl Charlotte_.”

 

Nodding, Lexa decided that this was a stroke of luck. She’d have to send people into Azgeda to determine what was happening with Clarke, including her location, and Murphy would be added to this group. She also knew who would guide him.

 

“ _Bring him and our Azgeda guest to me here. We will plan a mission to Azgeda to get us the information we need about Wanheda._ ”

 

Not liking the idea of trusting others with the task but not really having an alternative, Anya left to do as instructed. Returning about fifteen minutes later, a quiet girl in tow along with a hooded Murphy being held between two gona, they came to a halt beside the map table where Lexa still stood. Gesturing to the gona, they removed the hood and released Murphy, moving back towards the doors.

 

“You didn’t have to whack me over the head you know.” Scowling, he looked around the room. Spotting the Commander, and her general Anya, finally landing on the girl, Echo.

 

“Uh, where am I?”

 

“Welcome to Polis, the capital of the Trikru and the Coalition. Why were you not at your camp, Murphy kom Skaikru?” Lexa said, hoping that his intentions played into what she’d be demanding of him.

 

“I was looking for Clarke. Look, not to put too fine a point on it, but we’re falling apart without her. Dr. Griffin is a nightmare, Bellamy is a monster, and Kane can only do so much.”

 

“Heda, I agree with what Murphy kom Skaikru has said. I have heard of Wanheda from those in their camp. Without her, their people will not last. Thanks to Kane and others, most of them will likely survive this winter, but not long term. Bellamy has indeed returned to his undomesticated state, what the other first fallen say he was like before Wanheda brought him to heel.” Echo agreed, having seen the state of things first hand.

 

“The news of Wanheda, of Clarke kom Skaikru, is not promising. She was taken shortly after she left the area of the dropship. We believe that she survived a week or two on her own before she was taken by a group of warriors who then headed north.” Lexa said, looking meaningfully at Echo.

 

“Kwin Nia would have heard of Wanheda’s accomplishments at the mountain. It’s likely that she would have had her taken and brought to her. If the prophecies are true, it is only a matter of time before her power and knowledge return to her.” Echo said.

 

“Wait, what legends? Who’s Wanheda?” Murphy asked, completely in the dark about who these people believed Clarke to be.

 

At this, Anya spoke up to attempt to deliver a short version.

 

“There are two guiding spirits in our beliefs that rule the lesser spirits and hold dominion in our society, Heda and Wanheda, The Flame and The Light. The Commander is Heda, and it is our belief, based on what Clarke kom Skaikru has accomplished, based on observations, based on who she is as a person, that Clarke is Wanheda, or will be. The process, once it truly starts, can take as little as a year. She will gain certain benefits and knowledge, strength, speed, mastery of weapons. If she truly is Wanheda, which is almost assured at this point, Nia will want her, to try to take this power. There is a faction of our people that believe that by killing the living spirits, they might claim their power.”

 

Swallowing his objections, Murphy realized that it didn’t matter what he believed, what was important was what the grounders believed, especially this Nia person.

 

“So what do we do? How do we get Clarke back?”

 

“That is why you’ve been brought here Murphy kom Skaikru, you and Echo kom Azgeda. When the time is right, you will both go to Azgeda, to the capital where Kwin Nia will certainly have taken Clarke. If my suspicions are right, Nia will attempt to draw out the spirit, to force Clarke to ascend either through torture or trial by combat. Murphy, you will be there as Clarke’s general, and Echo, as the spy you are trained to be, to ensure you both are not discovered. Observe the capital, locate where Clarke is being held and any of her movements. Note guard rotations and any patterns you observe. If possible, and only if you will absolutely not be discovered, you will let her know that help is coming. You will then return here with the information within six weeks time. I will do the rest.” Lexa said, a sort of grim glee on her face, eager to finally deal with that bitch once and for all. No one would stand between The Flame and The Light, not without getting burned.

 

“We will meet again tomorrow. Murphy, rest and take food, you will need your strength for this journey. Spend your time before you leave familiarizing yourself with how to travel by horse and how to use our weapons, at least enough to defend yourself until you can use your gun. I will also have appropriate clothing and supplies sent to the room you will be given. Echo, I will send a small team of rangers with you, capable scouts who know stealth and how to blend in with other clans. Prepare yourselves, for you leave in three days time.”

 

With that said, Lexa dismissed them, looking at the map briefly before exiting, returning to the throne room. Not an hour later, she was surprised with a request that she hadn’t anticipated but, looking back, she probably should have.

 

“ _What do you mean, you have to leave? Explain yourself Titus_.” Lexa said, seated on her throne at the top of the Tower.

 

“ _Heda, forgive me. You know of the persistent rumors that Kwin Nia hides a Nightblood_.”

 

“ _Of course I do. They have persisted for years. What of them_?” she asked, eyeing the old bald man curiously. He’d been acting strange for weeks, disappearing into the restricted floors of the Tower reserved only for the Flamekeeper, sometimes for days.

 

“ _I received word that there might be a way to prove once and for all if these rumors are true. I would like permission to travel to Azgeda to investigate. As you know, it is the purview of the Flamekeeper to ensure that all Nightbloods are brought to Polis for training so that they may participate in Conclave._ ”

 

Lexa frowned, again reminded of the barbaric tradition for passing on The Flame. Something had to be done to change it. To waste such potential, after they were trained for years in everything that the initiates would need to know to lead their people, it was a crime. As she started to respond, Titus handed her a drink. Sipping it, the thought disappeared into the aether.

 

“ _Very well. How long will you need in Azgeda? The Nightblood training is also important._ ”

 

“ _It is. I believe I will be able to finish my investigation in a week at most. Adding travel time, it should not require my absence for more than three weeks_.”

 

“ _I want to put an end to these rumors once and for all. You have permission to leave immediately. A small contingent of guards will accompany you. Nia would not be foolish enough to harm the Flamekeeper, but bandits would._ ”

 

Realizing that there would be no talking her out of it, he replied “ _Thank you Heda. I will make preparations and leave tomorrow_.”

 

Nodding, Lexa dismissed him.

 

“ _He is up to something Lexa_.” Anya said, having kept silent for the exchange while standing off to the side.

 

“ _I know. He believes himself to be a better liar than he is, but whatever this is about, he is too emotional to mask it._ ”

 

“ _Heda, do you think his trip and his strange behavior could have something to do with Wanheda?_ ” Anya said, mindful of the timing of things playing out, all roads leading to Azgeda.

 

Narrowing her eyes, Lexa thought about it before shaking her head.

 

“ _I do not know, not for certain. He and all Flamekeepers before him are sworn to serve The Flame. Since Heda is reincarnated or re-embodied more often than Wanheda, having a right hand ready to help made sense, but I do not believe he would betray The Light. Either way, we will let things play out. If he is loyal, which he has shown to be in the past, nothing will happen. If the gona traveling with him report that he has been duplicitous, he will face the consequences of betraying us all._ ”

 

“ _Sha Heda. I just worry what secrets he might give to that Ice Bitch before he is stopped._ ”

 

Humming her agreement, Lexa’s mind drifted to Clarke. She’d taken Anya’s advice, no matter how jokingly it was given. She trained both with the Nightbloods and separately, honing her body and skills in preparation for Clarke. Just today she’d finally managed to limber-up enough to achieve side splits and get her toes above her head without pain. Yes, her body was ready for anything her love could throw at her. After years, her heart was ready as well.

 

She did not want to sound callous, even to herself, but Costia had been a beloved companion, but that was all that she was. Clarke, even in her short time with Lexa, had already meant more, had found her way deeper into Lexa’s heart that she’d imagined. Clarke being Wanheda, it would make perfect sense. Once her memories and her spirit was truly unlocked, she would be the woman that Lexa had devoted herself to for thousands of years. It was no wonder she had an affinity for Clarke from the start. She’d subconsciously recognized her soulmate, even if she was more angsty and innocent at present. Each new lifetime that they rediscovered one another, it was a joyous experience, joyous but also annoying. Her spirit, and Clarke’s, both worked to shield them from knowing too much too soon, going so far as to make their memories foggy in places. It ensured that fate and destiny played out as it was supposed to, not allowing them to move too quickly or to make rash decisions that their most trusted advisers would question. For example, if they fell into each other’s arms the moment they met in each lifetime, it would be very hard to explain. Likewise, if Lexa had known that she was leaving The Light on that mountainside to fight alone, to possibly die, no deal that Cage Wallace could’ve offered would’ve dissuaded her from staying. That would’ve prevented Clarke’s destruction of the Maunon and likely the catalyst for her ascension. Lexa supposed that, pain in the ass or not, being kept in the dark was for the best. Besides, she did love the cat and mouse advance and retreat type of flirtations that she had shared with Clarke. Staring into her eyes, that blue so true it reached her heart, she wouldn’t want to skip that in the rush of simply knowing that Clarke was her wife for more lifetimes than grains of sand on a beach.

 

Coming out of her reverie, she spotted the still-steaming meal of beef and vegetables that Anya had obviously gotten for her and left on the meeting table, Anya already digging in. Going to it, she silently sat and began to eat. In her current emotional state, swept up by her feelings for Clarke and her gratitude that her current life was finally going to be on track once Clarke returned to her, she spoke up.

 

“ _Thank you Anya. I do not say enough how much I count on you by my side._ ” It was true, whether as her teacher when she was young, or as her general now, or even as her sister, equally able to deliver a hug or a kick to the ass depending on what Lexa needed.

 

Looking at Lexa as if to say ‘ _quit your mushy shit_ ’, her words conveyed a different message “ _You do not ever need to thank me Lexa. Taking you as my seken when you were five summers old was the best choice I have ever made. Until my fight is over, by your side, and by Wanheda’s when she ascends, that is where I will be, come what may._ ”

 

 

Lexa finished her meal, her thoughts occupied solely with how Clarke was doing. If she was in Nia's hands, Lexa had no doubt that Clarke would be put through hell.

 

' _What could Titus possibly be doing that he needed to go to Azgeda?'_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please remember to comment, it makes our day!


	9. Dead Man Walking Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More build-up. Nia's plan begins to reveal itself. A surprise visitor. Another surprise visitor, this one welcome. Yes, I had to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few things. Assume author's notes are written by me, EK, unless you see LR's initials on them.
> 
> We've added another 'story' to the series, but this story will only be a place to stick pictures of things, like armor, or buildings, or weapons, or maps, for the stories. We've gotten DM's and emails asking "what does X look like", so we decided that we'd make this for you all since we've already looked up pictures for our own research.
> 
> When you get to the new character, remember I said that yes, I really had to. I was going with another person with the same first name from canon, and then I got to thinking, why not? She was trying to do things with the Temple of Athena after all.
> 
> Four and a half thousand words. The next update will be tomorrow night (Saturday night) or Sunday morning. Yes, this still counts as Friday since it's 3am my time and I haven't slept yet. Also thank you all for your congratulations on finishing my cancer treatment. For those that asked, there is no remission, the radiation kills it and that's it. Unless more comes elsewhere, it's gone for good.
> 
> Enjoy, and please comment! I'm going to spend my morning tomorrow answering all of the ones from the previous chapter because they mean the world to me.

Sitting on a comfortable chair in her very spacious and luxurious quarters, Lexa eyed the visitors occupying her coach. Echo was once again dressed in her Azgeda clothing and, for the first time, so was Murphy. He actually seemed to have reached a level of comfort with the garb, reassuring Lexa that he might actually pull off the disguise.

 

“Are you both prepared for the journey?”

 

“Sha Heda”.

 

“Yeah, but I’m not sure my hips and knees will ever be the same after all this riding.”

 

Lexa briefly smirked. She’d gotten reports of Murphy’s crash course in all things grounder. He actually seemed to be picking things up quite well. Not content on simply learning to ride and handling a sword, he’d sought out Echo and had her give him lessons in Azgeda culture and customs. It was reassuring to know that not only had Clarke chosen well in one of her chief subordinates, but that he was taking this seriously. Whether it was for his own sake or for Clarke’s didn’t matter since it served both, but she suspected that it was more for Clarke’s.

 

“There is a change of plans.” Holding her hand up to stop his question, she answered it straight away.

 

“The Flamekeeper, my chief civilian advisor, among other duties, came to me shortly after I gave you both this mission. He has been acting suspiciously for weeks, holed-up on his own, avoiding scrutiny. He came to me and requested to be allowed to travel to Azgeda.”

 

“To explain his reasoning, I must share a bit of our culture Murphy.” After receiving his nod, she decided to go with an abridged summary. “One of his duties is to train possible successors to the serving Heda. Did Clarke ever tell you what a Nightblood is?”

 

“No, she didn’t mention it.” Murphy said, confusion evident on his face.

 

“Nightbloods possess blood that is different. Instead of being the normal red, it is black.” Pulling a small blade from a sheath at her midsection, smaller than her parrying dagger on her hip, she sliced her thumb and showed it to him, leaning forward so that he could see clearly.

 

“Wow, that’s… weird. Is it a mutation, from the radiation?” That’s the only thing Murphy could think of to explain it.

 

“It likely is a mutation, but it is deliberate. In order for a person to embody one of the spirits, their body must be made heartier than a normal person. The nightblood is one of the two things needed. For Wanheda and I, there is a second step once our true spirit begins to awaken within us. Training those who are found to have this nightblood as possible successors is the job of the Flamekeeper. He also assists in the final step once The Flame inhabits a new host. It is one of our most sacred laws that all nightbloods must be sent here to Polis, our capital, for this training. It has long been rumored that, in a bid to secure The Flame in an Azgeda host, and thereby ensure that the Coalition is led from Azgeda, that Nia has broken this law and kept a nightblood hidden in her territory, training them herself to defeat the other nightbloods and claim The Flame.”

 

“It’s not a rumor Heda, her name is Ontari. Nia has trained her since she was four, first holding her parents as captives and then forcing Ontari to kill them herself in a test of loyalty.” Echo revealed.

 

It was at this point that Anya joined the conversation, previously content to silently observe from her position holding up the wall by the balcony.

 

“Heda, with this confirmation we can move against Nia!” she exclaimed, shocked and confused as Lexa was already shaking her head in the negative.

 

“No, this changes nothing. If Nia has this nightblood, and if she is as trained as Echo says, we cannot simply force her to come here with the other initiates.” Eyeing Murphy and Echo, deciding that it would hurt nothing for them to overhear, she continued “She is what, in her late teens, perhaps early twenties?”

 

“Sha Heda. She is twenty-one.”

 

“She is too old to benefit from the true training in the short term, and she would be an absolute threat to any of the initiates here. Given her age and years of training, she would defeat the eldest of the new class of initiates, as he is only ten years old. Proof of Nia’s treachery from one witness would not be enough to convince the other clans to move against her either, not unless that source was someone very highly placed.”

 

Nodding, Anya conceded the point. She herself would be trusted were she the witness. Certainly Titus, or Lexa. Perhaps even Wanheda, definitely once she had ascended.

 

“Regardless, the Flamekeeper, Titus, has requested to go to Azgeda in order to determine once and for all if the rumors hold truth. After his suspicious behavior of late, and based on the timing of the request, he is likely up to something, thought we don’t know what. Since you are already going to Azgeda, you will keep an eye on him should your primary mission allow it. He will go to the capital, just as you are, and has the power to investigate, even to question Nia herself or any of her subordinates. Given this, it’s likely that you’ll be in the perfect position to observe, since Nia will not be far from Clarke.”

 

“Understood Heda.”

 

“So, could this Flamekeeper guy cause trouble? For you or for Clarke?”

 

“It is possible. The Flamekeeper holds power, but it is an offshoot of my own as The Flame. His real value is the knowledge he holds, both of the ascension of The Spirits and of our history. To put it bluntly, he could be a problem for Clarke, for me, or for both of us if his loyalty has shifted. He does not know your faces, and I have made changes to which rangers I am sending with you to ensure that he won’t recognize them either. Some of our scouts and rangers have come to us from Azgeda, defectors you could say. It is the best of those that I will send with you. I have also ensured that none of them would be known in the capital so that they cannot give you away either.”

 

“The other change is that you will leave shortly after Titus. We will stagger your departure so that it won’t be suspicious. In fact, given how many people arrive and leave from Polis each day, there will be no reason to suspect that you are following him, even if you run into one another on the road to Azgeda. He plans to leave tomorrow, so be ready. The rangers accompanying you will have your tents and provisions already, but Anya will see to it that you have plenty of currency and whatever other supplies you need. Have you thought of a cover story yet?” This last part she directed solely at Echo, as the spy had likely been working on building one for them to follow.

 

“Sha Heda. We will be traveling merchants. It’s quite common for them to visit the capital city, especially at this time of year. Whether it is for the celebrations or for the arena, people flock there in late autumn from all over the territory. Our story will be that we will have sold our wares on our journey, arriving with no merchandise but instead with a good sum of money. I have discussed things discreetly with merchants in the Atrium, and I believe that making Murphy a purveyor of sexual aids would be best.”

 

Anya walked onto the balcony before laughing hysterically. Lexa raised an eyebrow, and Murphy simply looked at Echo with the widest eyes Lexa had ever seen.

 

“ARE YOU CRAZY?!” he said, catapulting from his seat and flailing his arms.

 

“Not at all. It would easily explain moderate wealth, as those items are popular. It would also be something that is interesting while not something that people would ask too many questions about. If you made swords, or armor, or even candles, you would get questions frequently.

 

Lexa zoned out, imagining making candles for a living. Making them, big candles, small candles, candles with several wicks, candles that carry scent. She imagined using them, filling a room with them. Owning a shop filled with them, a store room, a warehouse. Candles on shelves as far as she could see. She heard that the best candle-maker in the Coalition was in Delphi. She could totally arrange a trip to Delphi. Should she bring a cart? How many carts? She really should stock up. They could be gifts... no, she wouldn't give them away...

 

Coming out of her throughs, everyone was staring at her, all with expressions of alarm.

 

“What has happened?” she said, not cognizant of how long her thoughts had drifted.

 

It was Anya that responded, both shocked and exasperated “You mumbled the word ‘candles’ clearly before a line of drool ran from your mouth... twice.”

 

Wiping her face, her hand came away damp.

 

“The Flame was sharing a past situation with me regarding a plot to kill that incarnation using poison gas released by candles.” she said, nodding noticeably at the end, deciding that she’d done a fantastic job under pressure.

 

She didn’t do a fantastic job.

 

Anya looked at her like she’d both lost her mind and was more pitiable than an armless drummer in a rock band.

 

“Be ready to leave tomorrow. You can go.” she said, dismissing Echo and Murphy.

 

"Heda, may I speak with you later?" Echo said, glancing to Anya.

 

"Yes, return here in two hours." Receiving her answer, Echo quickly left as well.

 

Anya remained behind, of course. Like she needed Anya riding her ass about doing something embarrassing. If anyone was going to ride her ass, it was going to be Clarke…

 

Lexa’s eyes lost focus again, this time imagining Clarke behind her, putting Lexa’s new flexibility to good use, both of them surrounded by candles of every shape and size.

 

\------------------------------------------------------------

 

“ _Travel safely Flamekeeper. Be efficient and return to us swiftly.”_ Lexa said, standing just passed the steps to the Tower with Titus and his entourage holding the reins to their horses arrayed before her.

 

“ _Of course Heda, your will be done. I will ensure that Nia’s treachery, real or planned, does not threaten The Flame.”_ he said, clutching the strap of his stuffed pack with white knuckles.

 

_“You have served me well Titus, I do not imagine you will stop now. Make haste and return to us. I will attend the Nightbloods in your absence.”_

 

Mounting, he faced her, “ _Sha Heda”._

 

Signaling him to depart, she nodded at the gona who were going with him, satisfied that she’d chosen wisely and that these four mountains of men would protect him with their lives. The last gona, their leader, stopped as he pulled even with her.

 

“ _Ryder, you have your orders”_ she said, glad to be sending her most trusted. He wouldn’t do to send with Echo and Murphy, he was too recognizable as Lexa’s guard captain, but he could be used for this very visible duty.

 

_“Sha Heda. I will watch closely. At sign of his betrayal, I will drag him back by the testicles to face your justice.”_

 

Making a face like she’d just tasted something foul, she responded “ _Yes, thank you Ryder, see that you do.”_

 

Chuckling, he sobered, saluting her and kicking his horse into a trot to catch up. Not an hour later, she again found herself in the same spot, seeing people off that were headed to the same destination.

 

_“Remember what we discussed Echo. Your loyalty will be remembered, as will it’s opposite. Whether it is tomorrow, a year, or five, your love will not fear my blade, nor any blade that I command. If, however, she has injured one hair more on Wanheda’s head than was absolutely necessary, there will be no place in the world that Ontari can hide.”_

 

Gulping, Echo extended her arm to Lexa to take, “ _I understand Heda, and I agree. I will do everything I can to ensure we succeed. I swear it on The Flame and The Light.”_

 

Nodding at the girl, she turned to Murphy, already mounted on his horse, not appearing too uncomfortable.

 

“Murphy kom Skaikru. Do not lose hope. Clarke is the strongest person I have ever known. If she is indeed Wanheda, I would not be surprised if Azgeda is left in ruins by the time she leaves. I know you don’t share our beliefs, but they are not idle, whimsical, or make-believe.”

 

“No offense Commander, but I’ll believe it when I see it. It doesn’t really matter, as long as we get there in time to get the info and you’re ready and able to do what it takes to get her back before it’s too late.”

 

“Then rest assured, my end of things will be handled. We will free Clarke even if there is no Azgeda left when we are done.”

 

“Good, Clarke deserves us sticking up for her, she’s done it enough for me. I know you and her have had your problems.” In a ballsy move, he held up his hand when she started to reply. She looked at him slightly wide-eyed, shocked that someone had dared to do so. “Just hear me out Commander. I get that you had your reasons for what happened at the mountain. You got all your people out alive, and that’s something. But please, don’t betray her again. She feels something for you, a lot if my hunch is right. Come through for her this time.”

 

Had anyone else from Skaikru said that, with the exception of maybe Kane, she’d have decapitated them. With Murphy, however, she recognized that this wasn’t just another sky person. This was Clarke’s version of Anya, and what wouldn’t Anya tell someone, Commander or not, to try to keep Lexa safe, to guard Lexa’s heart?

 

“You have my word, Murphy kom Skaikru. Not the word Heda gave Clarke to attack the mountain together. You have the word of Leksa, and I will not choose my head, my duty to my people, over my heart again.”

 

Seeing the sincerity in her eyes, Murphy believed her. Here she was, a woman that commanded thousands, perhaps many more, with no reason at all to lie. She didn’t need him, not really. She could send Echo and any number of spies. She was sending him because she knew he wanted to go, would go on his own anyway, and that in his own way, he loved Clarke like a sister and she respected that, respected his devotion to his version of a Commander.

 

Nodding, he started to turn his horse before he paused.

 

“May we meet again Commander.”

 

“Yes, may we meet again Murphy.”

 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Ontari watched from the side of the much larger practice room that they were in. Clarke was at the center, chain whip in one hand, the other arm grabbing, bending, swinging the chain around. Target dummies were arrayed around her made of wood. Clarke’s body, covered in the leather armor that she’d received after outgrowing her last set over a month ago, glistened and shone in the light of the torches.

 

Her feet, legs, and entire body were constantly in motion. She used her arms, legs, even her neck to redirect the blade that was the tip of the chain. Rather than the links being sharp or even razors themselves, this version had a traditional chain which allowed her to control it’s movement in very precise and graceful way. Indeed, Ontari thought it might be a kind of dance. She’d seen the weapon used before, once, but it was nothing like this.

 

Once Clarke had severed the limbs of the last training dummy, she moved out onto the practice floor.

 

“You’re far better at that then I thought you’d be. Are there any weapons that Wanheda hasn’t used for lifetimes?” she asked, coming to stop in front of a slightly winded Clarke.

 

“Not really. Modern weapons like guns didn’t really hold the same enjoyment for her to wield, but she can still use them. She did know how to do what they eventually called gun katas. It’s not really something I can demonstrate without a gun or two and a similarly armed opponent.”

 

Clarke wandered over to the side of the room getting a drink for herself with Ontari trailing behind her. She made sure to bend at the waist when dunking her cup into the bucket of water, putting her ass on display in her very showy armor.

 

They’d grown closer over the last six weeks. Teasing Ontari had become a fun pastime, secure in the knowledge that nothing would ever happen. She was too devoted to Lexa, and Ontari, it seemed, had her own lady love. Ontari never spoke of her, and the only reason Clarke knew of her existence was due to a message arriving for Ontari informing her of the girl’s survival after the mountain. To say that Ontari was relieved and overjoyed was an understatement. With that weight lifted, it seemed that Ontari had, at least partially, lowered the walls keeping Clarke from becoming a true friend.

 

That didn’t mean she couldn’t make Ontari horribly frustrated. A girl’s got to make sure she still got it after all.

 

“Nia has decided that you will face tonight’s opponents alone. I do not know much, but I can tell you that it will involve twelve men from Ouskejon. _”_

 

That was another wrinkle that had happened over time. Other clans sometimes sent warriors in order to see if they had what it took to take Clarke down. Never Trikru or, as Ontari explained it, any kru that would be loyal enough to report her presence to Lexa. It seemed as if, in the absence of the mountain, loyalty to the Coalition was waning for some. If, when Clarke got out of here, she’d have to share her observations with Lexa. Disloyal clans would need to be brought in line before that kind of dissent spread.

 

“Alright, well, I’ve faced worse odds. Is it just me or does Nia seem to be getting more pissed and eager lately?” she asked, recalling her last few interactions with Ice Cunt. That’s what Clarke called her these days, at least in her head. It was like when things were leading up to the Raiders, but much more pronounced. To be honest, it was getting annoying and pretty alarming. Clarke felt like she was a chew toy to a very manic bitch.

 

“She is plotting something, something that has yet to be revealed. The only rumor that I have heard is that she has been sending messages to at least two locations. One is far off, outside Azgeda’s borders. The other, according to what’s been overheard, is a prison. Nia has several prisons spread throughout Azgeda for various types of prisoners. Some like the ones you have fought, while others are ones she holds in secret. The other set of messages is going to a prison that even I do not know the exact location. All I have heard of it is that it is capable of holding hundreds.”

 

Considering the possibilities, Clarke quickly realized that the information was too vague and there was too little of it to really draw any conclusions. Like every other aspect of her captivity, she’d just have to wait and see.

 

Lunch arrived and they ate in relative silence, both reflecting on what the battle today would bring. As Clarke’s knowledge in weapons grew, her confidence in her survival did as well, at least in the arena. Short of overwhelming force intent on actually killing her, death was unlikely. There had been a battle in which Nia had gone that route, putting so many combatants against her that they were able to get her to the ground. Other than a severe beating, nothing else came of her ‘loss’. It seemed like Nia was trying to see if Wanheda would come to her rescue despite her life not really being in danger. Fortunately Athena was smarter than that.

 

Physically, Clarke was in great shape, but she could tell that it wouldn’t last forever. Already she’d started getting muscle cramps and even a fine tremor in her hands at times. She knew her body was running at 200%, or more, and that any engine, biological or otherwise, couldn’t take that level of strain for long. So used to thinking of her life in terms of decades on the Ark, then in terms of moments after reaching the ground, she now viewed it as a matter of months, or less, if she couldn’t reach to Polis and get Lexa’s help.

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

The visitor made his way through the halls of the keep, escorted by the newly-minted captain of the raiders, Grillomarx. His lieutenants, Kimshu and Gillmer brought up the rear. The visitor kept his hood up, his face shrouded in shadow. In his arms he carried a leather wrapped bundle with two handles. As the party approached the throne room door, the guards quickly opened the doors, granting entrance.

 

Nia sat on her throne, reclined in her usual pose. At first glance she’d appear to be relaxed, but any who’d observed her would know that she was keenly focused on the new entrant to the room. The party came to a stop a short distance in front of the throne where the guards knelt. Unlike others seeking audience, the visitor did not kneel, though he did lower his head.

 

“ _Leave us.”_ Nia ordered, and in an unusual development, even waved her guards in the room away, all of the Raiders save the captain leaving as well.

 

The visitor, seeing the room empty save for the last two occupants, set the bundle at his feet and reached for his hood, lowering it to reveal his features.

 

“ _Have you done as I commanded?”_ Nia asked, the look of hungry eagerness clear in her gaze.

 

“ _Kwin Nia, as we discussed, I have come to observe the Sky girl to determine if she shows the signs of becoming the host of Wanheda. If, and only if I am satisfied, we will take the next step. Before you or your guard dog get any ideas, only I can open what I have brought, so there is no use trying to force the issue.”_

 

Eyes narrowed, Nia quickly renewed her opinion that this little worm of a man would need to be killed, slowly, painfully, but not before she got what she wanted, everything that she wanted.

 

“ _She is scheduled for the arena today. You will observe the fight and once it concludes, you’ll have no doubts.”_ The sooner the better as far as she was concerned. Three months of little progress was three months too long.

 

 _“We shall see. Remember our agreement. I do as you ask in this matter, and you ensure that she never leaves Azgeda territory again.”_ Before Nia could respond, he quickly continued “ _and when your coup comes to pass, when all of the other nightbloods are gone and The Flame has no choice but to enter your minion, I remain unchallenged in my position.”_

 

Not allowing the contempt she felt for this fool to register on her features, Nia answered “ _Of course, tradition must be preserved.”_

 

The visitor eyed Nia for several heartbeats before finally nodding. As Nia rose from her throne, he put his hood back over his head and drew his cargo into his arms. Nia swept from the room, exiting through the same hallway that they had entered from, both he and Grillomarx scurrying to catch up.

 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Lunch finished, she was escorted by Ontari to the arena. They made it there with little fuss, the people in the streets parting for them, staring at Clarke in awe and wonder, murmurs of ‘Wanheda’ on their lips. ‘ _Close, but not quite, not yet’_ Clarke thought.

 

As they arrived, Ontari was called to meet with Ice Cunt and promptly departed. Once again, she stood in her cage, adorned in her armor, waiting for the fight to come. It wasn’t long before Ontari returned, a concerned look on her face.

 

“She would not tell me what is going on, but there will be more to fight than the twelve warriors of Blue Cliff. She also had a guest, one I could not identify. He stood in shadow with his hood raised, but he was definitely one of her guests, in her box.”

 

Absorbing this information, Clarke knew that Nia’s plan, whatever it was, was underway. Taking her time to ensure her body was as ready as it could be, she began her stretches and what warm-ups she could do within the limited confines of the cage. As the horns sounded, she wasn’t let out, so she settled in to wait. Alternating between stretches and jogging in place, she felt the anticipation building within her. For the first time before a fight in many weeks, she also felt the tingle at the base of her skull begin. That, more than anything, told her that today was not going to be just another match.

 

After an interminable wait, she was let out of her cage after the horns sounded for the final match. Walking through the tunnel, head held high, she was handed her two swords, the same as she’d claimed during the Battle of the Raiders, as people had taken to calling it. Emerging, the crowd of several thousand came to their feet, their applause and screaming thunderous.

 

Looking up in the sky, the distant sun shone down on her. Closing her eyes for a moment, Clarke tried to imagine it’s rays warming her skin despite the approaching winter and her location so far north. Opening her eyes, she tightened her grip on the swords and walked inside the circle of sand, roughly a hundred feet across. She spotted the dozen Blue Cliff warriors, all large and menacing, as expected. What wasn’t expected, however, was the fact that every third warrior held the leash of the largest panthers Clarke had ever seen.

 

Fur so black it appeared blue, their muscles rippled with barely contained violence. As she watched, a piece of cloth was handed to each handler by a servant. The handlers then took the cloth and pressed it to the snouts of the panthers, who then became even more agitated. Looking closer, Clarke recognized the pieces of cloth as parts of the night shirt she had worn the previous evening.

 

“They’re learning my scent.” she said, mostly to herself, but Ontari was still beside her, nervously looking from animal to animal to warrior and back again.

 

_“People of Azgeda! Your generous Kwin Nia has arranged a special treat for you today! As many of you have seen, Wanheda has impressed us all with her fighting skills. Today, she will have a far more difficult task.”_

 

As the announce paused, a chained, hooded figure was dragged out of the visitor’s tunnel before they were unceremoniously dropped in the sand about twenty feet from Clarke.

 

“ _Today, she will have to defend one of her own kru!”_

 

As the last word echoed in the air, the hood was yanked off revealing a woman with an athletic build with short, dirty blonde hair. Racking her brain, Clarke knew she looked familiar, but couldn’t quite place her. She went through the people at Camp Jaha in her mind one by one, even as she wondered how the hell one of them could’ve gotten this far north and into Nia’s hands.

 

The answer to both questions came a moment later as she realized that she hadn’t seen this woman since before she was imprisoned. Imprisoned on the Ark.

 

Kara Thrace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. Please take a few minutes (or longer! Totally longer would be awesome!) and leave us a comment! Thanks so much!


	10. Authors Note

G’Day Everyone,

I would like to thank everyone for all the support and well wishes we have been receiving. I know we haven’t posted in a long time and for that I am extremely sorry. Life has been crazy for both of us at the moment. I work all the time and have been studying. It’s hard to match up the time zones so we can talk without keeping each other up to insane o’clock every night. EK has been having some health and housing issues as of late. We also have been a little lazy as well ;)

But we want to promise you that this story WILL NOT BE ABANDONED EVER. It might takes us longer between updates but we will keep this story going. We hope to have the next update out soon.

Take care everyone and stay safe. I’ll talk to you all soon.

 

Have a good one J

                                                                                                                                                                                                                     - LittleRaider

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will delete this note when we put the next chapter up.


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